


Down on the Farm

by marieadriana



Series: ARROW, Inc. [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Druids, Evil Nick Fury, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pre-Slash, Protective Clint, Protective Natasha, Slash, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marieadriana/pseuds/marieadriana
Summary: Clint and Natasha take Catriona to meet Clint’s sister-in-law Laura and her two children. (Takes place in June 2010)





	1. Preparing for Liftoff

~ * ~  
Natasha indulged herself by waking slowly, savoring the experience of being comfortable both physically and emotionally. She’d slept deeply and felt more rested than she had in months.

{Good morning, Sunshine,} Clint thought at her. Even his mental voice sounded sleepy, Natasha noted with amusement. He really wasn’t entirely human until he’d had several cups of coffee.

{Morning. You’re awake early.} The words were plain, but the affectionate mental tone that accompanied them softened her reply.

{Anxious to get on the road,} he admitted. {Or in the air, depending on what transport I can talk Coulson out of.}

{Catriona agreed to join us. When she wakes, I’ll ask if she has a preference.} Natasha smoothed some of Catriona’s hair away from her face, feeling strangely protective.

{I should be jealous. You slept with someone prettier than me,} Clint teased gently. She knew he wasn’t serious; there was too much humor in his tone.

{Touch starved,} Natasha remarked. {I guessed a few months ago, when she kept bumping into me on our walks. I don’t think she realizes she’s doing it. Makes me wonder how long it’s been since she had close friends.}

Clint’s tone sobered. {She’s got them now. She can cuddle up to me as much as she needs. Especially now that I don’t have to worry that you’ll misinterpret it. In case I hadn’t mentioned it yet, I’m really glad we can talk like this. I like being about to feel the emotions behind your words.}

{So do I.}

There was comfortable silence between them, but their awareness of each other stayed focused. {I’d best call Laura,} Clint said finally. {Start making arrangements. I hope Barney’s out in the field,} he added.

The connection dimmed as Clint shifted his attention elsewhere, but Natasha could still feel him, a steady presence in her mind. She shifted carefully, hoping to extricate herself from the couch without waking Catriona. The druid stirred, however, and emerald eyes focused on Natasha.

“Good morning, achara,” Catriona said, sitting up and stretching.

“Morning.” Natasha smiled at her, the amused affectionate expression that few people ever saw. “Clint’s making arrangements, but we didn’t know if you’d rather fly or drive. Or meet us there, I suppose.”

Catriona tilted her head, pondering this. “Which would you have done, were I not to travel with you?”

“Clint prefers to fly, but he can’t always get an aircraft released. We’d have tried to fly, maybe wound up driving,” Natasha told her. She moved to fold the blankets they’d used last night, her movements efficient.

“Either is fine with me. I would rather arrive in your company than risk startling your family.” Catriona joined her in straightening the office, neatly tucking blankets and pillow back into the cupboard and tugging on the edge of a cushion to align it.

“They’re Clint’s family,” Natasha corrected.

Catriona turned to her, eyebrows raised. “They’re yours too, now. Auntie Nat,” she added, with a twinkle in her eye.

Natasha rolled her eyes but didn’t protest again. She was fond of Laura and Cooper, though she hadn’t had a chance to get to know baby Lilah yet. As long as she pretended they weren’t Barney’s wife and kids. {Catriona is fine with flying or driving, so it’s up to you,} Natasha informed Clint.

{I think we’ll have to fly in to the airstrip nearest the farm and borrow a car. Don’t want to draw attention by leaving aircraft parked in the pasture.}

Catriona had pulled a wide-toothed comb out of her sleeve and was attempting to tame her curls. “Have you any suggestions as to how I can leave the office without causing a ruckus?”

Natasha began to speak when there was a sharp knock on the door. Both women froze, though Natasha’s was that of a stalking predator and Catriona’s of frightened prey.

“Phil. Open this door,” an authoritative voice said from the other side. The knock was repeated, more forcefully this time.

“Of all the bloody, buggering times…” Catriona swore.

“It’s Director Fury,” Natasha murmured.

“I am aware of that, and I was hoping to avoid a confrontation.” Catriona pressed a hand to her forehead, frowning. “I am not certain I can plane-walk out of here.”

“Coulson!” Fury demanded again. “Don’t make me break down the damned door.”

At Catriona’s resigned hand wave, Natasha moved to the door and unlocked it, opening it before Fury could make good on his threat. “Director Fury,” she said respectfully.

“Agent Romanoff. What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Coulson?” Fury lowered his fist, but he was still holding himself tightly.

Natasha had carefully opened the door only wide enough to satisfy Fury while still allowing Catriona to stay out of sight. Fury pushed past her, scouring the room with his eye. When it fell on Catriona, his jaw tightened and his voice dropped deeper. “What the hell are you doing here?” he repeated, but there was menace in his tone now. Natasha had to fight her instincts; she didn’t physically react to his manhandling around her, and she did not immediately place her body between Fury and Catriona. She considered that personal progress.

“My business here is none of your concern,” Catriona informed him. Natasha blinked, glad that Fury could not see the dumbfounded look she was certain was on her face. This was not, she realized, her friend Catriona speaking. This was Lady Catriona O’Clare, the White Druid, servant of Gaia, in absolute control of herself and the situation.

“I told you, I didn’t want you interfering with my operations or my people—” Fury began hotly, and Natasha was shocked again when Catriona raised a single hand in a graceful gesture and cut him off.

“When last I checked, Agents Coulson, Barton, and Romanoff were employees of SHIELD, not vassals or serfs in your own private army,” Catriona replied coolly.

{Clint, you gotta get to Phil’s office stat. And find Phil, if you can. Catriona’s ice queen act is better than mine, and she just interrupted Fury mid-tirade.} Natasha knew there was awe and surprise in her tone, but didn’t bother to hide it. 

{Think I’ve got time to sell tickets?} Clint shot back, but she could tell he was concerned as well. {Just found Phil, on our way.}

“You’d better watch your mouth, little witch,” Fury growled. He stepped towards Catriona, who did not yield a fraction of an inch.

“Or you’ll do what?” she asked sweetly, and raised one eyebrow.

“I’ll see to it that you stay the hell away from my people.”

Clint and Phil appeared in the doorway behind Natasha, all eyes wide. “Director Fury, I apologize for being unavailable,” Phil said immediately, entering his office and offering the director his usual polite smile in an attempt to defuse the situation.

“I’d like to know why this… individual…” he pronounced the syllables distinctly, as though it were an epithet, “…is in your office at oh-seven-hundred hours, and why I wasn’t informed.”

Phil would have answered – he’d opened his mouth to do so – but Catriona spoke first.

“As I said before, Nicholas, it is none of your concern. I am here at my Goddess’s behest, and no contrivance of yours would prevent me from following Her commands.” She tilted her chin up slightly, and there was fire in her gaze. “You demand unflinching obedience from those who serve you, yet you have so much scorn for those who follow another master or mistress. It is unfortunate.” She shook her head now, gaze still sharp on him. “Your grandfather would be sorely disappointed. You had such potential.”

Fury’s reply was not in words, but in an animalistic growl that caused Phil to put a restraining hand on his elbow, and Clint to put himself between the director and the druid.

“She was just leaving,” Phil told the director calmly. “Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff, would you escort Miss O’Clare out of the facility?”

“Yes, sir,” Clint responded instantly, and gestured to the door. “If you would step aside, Director?” he asked as politely as he could.

For a moment it looked as though Director Fury would prolong the confrontation, and Natasha held her breath. She was calculating her odds of being able to wound him significantly enough to prevent his retaliation without killing him when he finally stepped to the side. He pointed at Phil, then at Phil’s desk. Phil inclined his head respectfully and moved to sit at his desk, gesturing for the director to take one of the seats facing him. Natasha angled her body as he moved, watching his center of motion for any indication that he was going to lash out at Catriona.

Much later, she would wonder at her instinctive assumption that it was Fury who was a danger to Catriona, and not the other way around.

Clint led the druid into the hallway and Natasha followed, closing the door to Phil’s office behind her. The cadence of angry voices picked up immediately, and Natasha gestured that they should move along.

Catriona had not yet relaxed her imperious manner, and had one hand in the crook of Clint’s elbow as though he were escorting a Queen to a ball rather than being summarily removed from the property. She steadfastly ignored the speculative looks in her direction by other agents.

{Right now, it would be super handy to be able to mind-talk with her,} Clink remarked to Natasha. {I can’t get a read on her when she’s got that face on.}

{Don’t watch her face, watch her fingers,} Natasha told him.

He glanced down at the pale, elegant hand tucked into his elbow. He could feel trembling through her fingertips, and her grasp had tightened. {Good call, Sunshine. Let’s get out of here, before Fury decides on round two.}

Clint led Catriona to the facility’s garage and spoke briefly to a clerk. He was directed to a landing pad where a helicopter sat, pilot at the ready, blades already picking up speed. He assisted Catriona into it and followed her, fastening the druid’s safety restraints before he tugged on his own. Natasha slid into her own seat and did up her buckles as well. The pilot made a questioning hand signal, and Clint made the corresponding response for ‘Good to go.’ The helicopter took off, and Catriona leaned back against the seat, her eyes closed.

“You alright, achara?” Natasha asked. She didn’t care if the pilot overheard them – though she doubted he could hear over his comm.

“No,” the druid replied softly. She looked out the window, face still.

Clint slipped his arm around her waist, wishing the restraints didn’t prevent him from pulling her closer. She had that look again, he reflected. Not the imperious ice queen face she’d shown earlier, but one he remembered from their return the night before – a desperate hunger for contact, affection – something. He caught Natasha’s eyes, and she nodded.

{I saw it too.} Natasha wished that side of the helicopter had three seats, because she wanted to comfort Catriona as well. 

Clint rubbed his hand up and down Catriona’s arm, trying to help. His touch wasn’t sexual – it wasn’t even sensual. He held her like he would his nephew, soothed her like he would his niece. He wondered idly how she’d come to feel like family in so very short a time.

{She did to me too,} Natasha told him. {When we first met, and she got up to leave? She hugged me. I’m… not used to other people initiating contact with me. Most people keep their distance. Except you and Phil – Laura and the kids.}

{Maybe it’s a druid thing?}

Natasha shook her head minutely. {If it were, I don’t think Fury would have been so aggressive. I wish I knew the history there, but I don’t want to upset her more by asking.}

{I wish we hadn’t had to bail on Phil,} Clint frowned. {I know he can handle Fury, but…}

{I know.} Natasha wished she was as good with nicknames as Clint was; calling him by his name directly in his mind felt so formal, and she liked it when he used pet names for her – though she didn’t like to admit it. {He looked so tired last night. Catriona said he’d been like that since she’d gotten there. I’m not used to seeing him look anything but precise.}

{He is human, Tash. Or have you forgotten Budapest already?} The incredulous and slightly horrified look she gave him made him stifle a chuckle.

Catriona sighed, and Clint winced at the exhaustion and pain in that small sound. “I know that you do not do so to be rude, but I would be much obliged if you would confine your conversations to the spoken word, when I am with you,” she requested. 

“We’ll try,” Natasha agreed. “We’re still working on it, but if we lapse into silence, it isn’t intended to exclude you.”

“I know that,” Catriona replied, and though she smiled there was no joy in it. “It is not that I feel dismissed or rejected, it is…” she trailed off, looking down at her fingers. “Envy.”

Clint’s eyebrows shot up. “Over what?” He wondered if he should remove his arm – if she was harboring some sort of romantic feelings, he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression.

“That you have found your heartmate,” Catriona explained. Her voice was very soft now, and Clint had to lean closer to hear her. “I had forgotten the envy. It has been a great number of years since I spent any length of time with a bonded couple, and I did not recall feeling this way.”

“You told me, when we met, that Great Mother wants you to find him,” Natasha reminded her gently. “She wants you to have babies and raise little druids. She wouldn’t give you false hope, achara. Your achroi ghra will come.”

Catriona didn’t answer, just closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against Clint’s shoulder.  
~ * ~


	2. Coming to Rest

Catriona was mostly silent for the remainder of the flight, though she would answer questions posed to her. As they neared Waverly, Iowa Clint slipped on a headset to communicate with the pilot, giving him directions to the best space to land a helicopter on the Barton homestead. 

“Do you want to leave?” Natasha asked Catriona while the pilot began his descent. “If our bond is going to make you uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay. We won’t be offended.”

“I want to stay,” Catriona replied softly. “I want to meet Laura and the children. I will be fine. I am stronger now, as we approach the earth – I will be nearly normal once I can touch Great Mother.”

Natasha could see the truth in that – some of the sadness was gone from the druid’s face, and her posture was less defensive. “I want you to meet them too, achara. I just don’t want to hurt you, even unintentionally.”

Catriona smiled at her, and there was some of her usual warmth in it. “I know that, Natasha. I feel I must apologize for letting my pain cause you worry. It is an old ache, and not one I dwell on often.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Clint told her, his conversation with the pilot over and the headset no longer blocking his hearing. “We’ve all got shadows in our past, sweetie. We’ll help you get through yours, and you can return the favor next time one of us needs it. That’s what friends are for.”

{Sweetie?} Natasha echoed.

{Not my best effort, but I gotta find something to call her. I give nicknames to everyone, I don’t want to leave her out.}

Catriona touched her hand to Clint’s face. “You are a dear man, Boghdoir.”

Clint was surprised she’d used the name the Goddess called him, but he liked it. “Hey… if you call me Boghdoir, can I call you Alanna?” he asked.

“Do you really want to be calling me ‘child’ all the time?” she asked, eyebrows raised. One side of her mouth quirked up in a smile that reminded him of Natasha so strongly he wondered how much time the pair had spent together in the last six months.

“No… I suppose not.” He tightened her security straps again, checked Natasha’s, and gave his own a cursory tug before the final turbulence of landing began. “What’s the Gaelic word for sister?”

“Deirfiur,” she responded automatically. “Sister? You’d call me sister?” He hadn’t known it was possible for eyebrows to go that high, but she’d managed to lift them again and her eyes were wide with wonder.

“Well, yeah,” Clint said, feeling unaccountably awkward. “I mean, I could just call you sis, if you don’t want me to butcher the Gaelic word all the time. But, you know. I want it to be comfortable. Something no one else – except maybe Natasha – calls you.”

Catriona’s eyes filled, and Clint was sure he’d bungled this somehow until she began to laugh in delight, her voice once more full of the warmth and joy she’d shown in the jungle. “It would please me greatly to be referred to as your sister, in whatever language you feel appropriate.” She wiped tears away, still smiling. “Do you know how long it has been since someone claimed kinship ties to me? Centuries, Clint. You have just put balm on a wound that I had long since decided was permanent.”

He blinked, slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her as tight as the restraints allowed. “Right then, little sis. I always wanted a little sister. I’ve got Laura for a sister-in-law, and since she’s a mom she’s kind of like a big sister, but you’re so tiny I get to have you as a ‘little’ sister.” He made sure to infuse his comment with humor, not wanting Catriona to think she was being made fun of – just affectionately teased.

Her reaction was to smile even broader, and lean into his arm. “You don’t mind, do you, Natasha?” she asked abruptly, looking across at her.

“Not if I can call you that too,” she answered easily. “Mladshaya sestra is little sister in my first language – Russian – so you might hear that one now and again.”

Catriona’s smile was radiant. “Thank you… deirfuir,” she added shyly. “And dhearthair,” she added, looking at Clint again. “Brother.”

The helicopter touched down, and the three disentangled themselves from the safety straps and exited. Clint spoke briefly to the pilot before joining them on the ground. Within moments, the helicopter had taken off again.

Catriona sunk her bare toes into the matted grass, humming with pleasure. “Much better,” she told them. 

“Don’t you ever wear shoes?” Clint asked.

“Not if I can help it.” Catriona closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, centering herself. “My connection with Great Mother is such that I prefer to be able to reach out to Her as easily as possible at all times.”

“Laura will give you a lecture about going barefoot around the farm,” Clint warned her. “And about the joys of tetanus. We’ll find you a pair of sandals or something.” She rolled her eyes, but didn’t object further. He gestured to the west and the large farmhouse. “C’mon, she’ll have seen the chopper drop us off. Don’t want to worry her by taking too long.”

He began to trot in that direction, Natasha following him easily. Catriona trailed behind them. “What did you tell her about me?” she asked.

She ran into him when he halted, flat-footed, and began to swear. “Damn it.”

“What the hell?” Natasha demanded.

“I got distracted! Epic showdown between Director Fury and Druid Furious in progress! I said we were coming for a vacation and would be here… well, now. I’m sorry!”

Catriona stepped back, putting space between herself and Clint. “I will not present myself uninvited and unannounced at another’s hearth, brother.” She was hurt – more hurt than she wanted to admit – that he hadn’t mentioned her to his sister-in-law. She shouldn’t be, she told herself. They had not known each other long, and had barely claimed kinship ties, and so such an omission should be excusable.

Natasha’s hand slipped into her own, preventing further retreat. She tugged until the druid was against her, and wrapped her in a hug. {You fucked up,} Natasha informed Clint. {You get to fix it.} She stroked curly red hair back from Catriona’s eyes. “Family is never uninvited at the Barton homestead, little sister, and just because Laura does not know you are family yet does not mean that you aren’t.”

“I’ll just… run ahead and explain,” Clint replied lamely, taking off for the farmhouse at a much higher rate of speed. {Damn, how can she be strong enough to make Fury growl, and soft enough that I bruise her heart accidentally?}

{I don’t know, dearling, but she’s bruised now.} Natasha pressed Catriona’s head into her shoulder, cradling the druid as she would a scared child. {I thought she’d be fine when we landed, but…}

{Dearling? Is that even a word?}

{It is now.} Her tone was amused and affectionate, despite her concern for Catriona.

Clint grinned, even though there was no one to see. {I’m so awesome you had to make up a pet name for me, eh Sunshine?} He vaulted up the farmhouse steps and opened the front door, calling out as he walked in.

“Laura! I’m home!” Clint braced himself as Cooper gave a running leap into his knees, and scooped his nephew up. “Hey, buddy, how’ve you been? You been helping Mom with your sister?”

The boy nodded solemnly, clutching his uncle. Laura appeared at the top of the stairs, coming down with baby Lila in her arms. “Hey,” she said, and kissed his cheek lightly. “I thought you were bringing Nat?”

“I am. I did. I… umm… also brought someone else?” he said apologetically. “And they’re both mad that I forgot to tell you? And I know you know Nat’s scary when she’s mad, but Catriona’s eyes got all misty and I felt like I’d kicked a puppy.”

Laura blinked. Natasha was the only person Clint had ever brought to the farm, and it startled her that he’d brought another – and someone she’d never heard him mention. “Is this a new… friend?” she asked carefully. She’d always assumed that Clint and Natasha were lovers, though they didn’t appear to indulge at the farmhouse, but she may have read the situation wrong, if he was bringing another woman home with him.

“No! Not like that,” Clint corrected immediately. “She’s… well, Nat and I both call her little sister,” he tried to explain. “Nat’s known her longer, and she’s…”

{You are very bad at this,} Natasha informed him. {Tell Laura that Catriona is my best friend, my heart sister, and I would like her to meet my other sister.}

Clint dutifully repeated the words, and Laura’s eyes widened. “Of course. Tell them to come on in, I’ll make a pot of coffee.” She turned towards the kitchen. “However it is you’re talking to her, anyway.” 

Trust Laura not to miss that.

Cooper struggled to get down and Clint set him back on his feet, watching him tear after his mother. Natasha led Catriona up the front steps, pulling her into the farmhouse behind her. {Apologize properly,} she told Clint firmly.

“I’m so sorry, Catriona,” he said, wrapping her in a tight hug of his own. “I feel like you’ve been part of my world for a lot longer than you have been, and I forgot that not everyone had gotten the memo. You feel so natural as a sister that I completely spaced having to tell other people. Can you forgive me for being an idiot?”

Catriona clung to him for a moment, her body seeking reassurance that her words would never ask for. “Of course.” She relaxed gradually, letting his obvious sincerity soothe her self-doubt.

“Get used to it,” Natasha told her with humor in her voice. “He’s an idiot fairly often.”

“Hey!”

Laura appeared down the hall, laughing. “Welcome home, Nat.” She gestured for them to join her in the kitchen. “You must be Catriona.”

Clint released the druid and led her to the kitchen. “Lady Catriona O’Clare, meet Mrs. Laura Barton, the best thing to happen to Barney Barton, and one of the best things to happen to me.”

“Just Catriona, please,” she corrected. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Natasha and Clint speak very highly of you.”

“This little terror is Cooper, and the drooling one is Lila,” Clint continued, picking his nephew up again.

“Here,” Laura said, and handed Lila to Catriona. “Welcome to the farm. I’m going to make coffee. Unless you’d rather tea?” she asked, having noted the Irish accent.

Catriona cradled the baby in her arms, enchanted. “Tea would be lovely,” she responded automatically. She gazed down into dark brown eyes. “You have beautiful children,” Catriona told Laura.

Laura grinned. Baby Bartons were the best icebreakers she’d ever found. “Thanks. Can’t take all the credit, though, their dad is a handsome devil.”

Clint grumbled something, but desisted at Laura’s glare. “Sorry, Laura.” Catriona raised an eyebrow at him. “House rule,” he explained. “No badmouthing my brother in front of the kids.”

“Sensible,” Catriona agreed. She bounced the infant gently, instinctively, and felt her heart squeeze a little at the happy response.

“Down, Uncle Clint!” the boy demanded, and Clint released him. “Up, Auntie Nat!” he insisted at Natasha, who swung him up with a laugh.

“Cooper, this is your Auntie Catriona,” Natasha told him, stepping closer so the boy could reach out to touch the druid.

“Auntie Ona?” he repeated, unable to manage her full name with his four-year-old grasp of language.

Catriona laughed delightedly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Yes, Auntie Ona,” she repeated, and her smile was bright. “It is very nice to meet you, young Cooper.”

“Your words sound pretty,” Cooper told her solemnly.

“Thank you,” she said, ruffling his hair. Lila stirred in her arms, grasping a curl in one fist. Catriona smiled at her, even when she pulled at it.

{She’s good with the kids,} Clint remarked in some amazement to Natasha. Natasha shot him a look, but didn’t answer.

“So… what brings you to the farmhouse?” Laura asked, pouring coffee and tea into mugs. She set them on the kitchen table and took her own seat, looking at Clint and Natasha. “Suspension or leave?”

“Kind of both?” Clint answered with a shrug. He sank into a chair, taking a long drink of coffee and making an approving noise. “Technically we’re off for ten days, but I think that’s just because Coulson gave us leave before Fury could suspend us.”

At the mention of the director, Catriona’s eyes flashed dangerously. “He could try,” she said quietly. Her hands on the baby were still gentle, but her tone was icy.

“Whoa.” Laura sat up straighter. “Okay, so I’m not the only one with a beef with Mr. Eyepatch. Good to know.” She toasted Catriona with her coffee mug, smiling. “I know what he did to tick me off, but what did he do to you?”

Catriona glanced at Cooper before she answered. “He is… careless,” she began. Clint and Natasha were both listening eagerly, and she rolled her eyes at them. “I am not going to rehash our entire history for you, deirfuir, dhearthair. It is not a story I wish to dwell on, nor one that small ears should hear. I will say only that he does not hold life, liberty, and love in the same regard as myself or the Goddess – and his singular focus has put more than one of Her Warriors at risk over the years.”

Natasha frowned. “Just how many encounters are we talking about?”

“More than a handful, less than a hundred,” Catriona replied blithely. “I shall not give you more details, dear sister, no matter how skillfully you ask. He may no longer be your only master, but I would not cause you more turmoil with him. He is, after all, your commanding officer. That merits some respect.”

“Coulson is our commanding officer,” Clint corrected firmly.

“And Fury is his,” Catriona reminded him gently. “I would not make life more difficult for Coulson, either.”

“I wish you’d brought this Agent Coulson with you,” Laura remarked. “I’ve heard so much about him, I’d love to meet him.”

Catriona looked startled. “You have not met their treorai?” She fixed Clint and Natasha with a stern gaze. “How is this?”

“Our what?” Natasha asked.

“Guide. Handler.” Catriona waved the translation away. “Answer, please.” There was a firmness in her voice that reminded Clint of her manner with Fury, and had him replying before he’d decided what to say.

“Coulson’s not really – I mean, he’s our friend but he’s our boss first, right? So it didn’t exactly seem normal to ask him to come home and meet the family, and I didn’t want it to be weird—”

“He’s more than your boss, Clint,” Laura interrupted. “I haven’t even met him, and I know that.” She fixed her gaze on him. “You talk about him like he’s… well.” She glanced at Natasha. “Let’s just say your brother has made some assumptions about your relationship to Phil Coulson.”

Natasha laughed at the shock on Clint’s face. “Oh, come on. You’ve heard those rumors, too. The pot on you and him is bigger than the one on you and me. Which is vaguely offensive,” she said offhandedly to Catriona. “I’m a much better catch.”

“You scare more people,” Catriona told her. “Coulson inspires loyalty and awe, but not as much fear.”

“Hm. Point.”

“We’re not – I haven’t – he isn’t –” Clint was stumbling to explain himself, still dumb founded that people would think that he and Phil were together. Not that the idea hadn’t occurred to him, but he thought he’d been pretty damn discreet about those fantasies.

{You are not as opaque as you think you are, dearling,} Natasha told him. There was no censure in her tone even though they were discussing the notion of him being intimate with someone else – a man, and their boss to boot. {Most of SHIELD knows that where Phil goes, you follow.}

“Stop that,” Catriona said irritably.

“Stop what?” Laura asked, confused. Her eyes bounced between Clint and Natasha.

Clint dropped his head to the table and banged his forehead against the wood. It was going to be a long conversation.

~ * ~


	3. Of Bonds and Beds

He was right.

Natasha’s bonding to Gaia, Clint’s bonding to the Goddess and to Natasha, Catriona’s age and role were all explained as the four adults drank several pots of coffee, endless cups of tea, made and devoured lunch, and laid both children down for naps.

Clint was rubbing at his temples, feeling more tired than several hours of talking should make him feel. Catriona covered his fingertips with her own, soothing away the headache with a touch of her Gift. “Coulson does the same thing,” she murmured to him. “Rubbing as though he could coax the headache away with his fingers.”

“Well, you can,” he said, sighing as the pain eased. “Can’t help it,” he confessed. “Probably picked it up from him.”

“Doubtless.” She patted his cheek lightly.

Natasha and Laura were upstairs in Laura’s bedroom, sorting through the closet for clothes and shoes that would fit Catriona. The druid had slipped aside to tend to Clint’s headache, and now drew him close for a hug.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, tucking her head under his chin. “I didn’t think it would be that hard to tell it to Laura. All of it.”

“I expect I should have offered to come with Natasha, when she first accepted Her service,” Catriona admitted. “It has been some time since I initiated one of Her Warriors. I had not considered the cultural changes.”

“Have there always been Chosen? How many?” Clint asked. He kept her tucked against him, just enjoying the closeness. It was easy to be affectionate with her – she soaked it up like parched earth, and returned it with a simple joy that warmed his heart. Not even with the children did he feel so relaxed.

“Always,” she answered. “Usually about two dozen or so at any given moment, though I believe it has been as high as one hundred, in times of great peril. Different Warriors are initiated by different druids, and are then somewhat bound to them. Not a formal bond, more an obligation or duty.” She smiled against his chest. “You are not a duty to me, dhearthair.”

“I know.” And he did – saw it in her eyes when she looked at Natasha, when his gaze met hers. “I’m kind of glad, that me and Natasha are your only Warriors right now. I don’t think I’m ready to share,” he said.

“Whether or not She sees fit to bid me initiate other Warriors, it will not change this,” Catriona promised him. “I cannot think it likely that more will be forthcoming, however. Two Chosen in one turn of the wheel – one year – is remarkable in and of itself. I cannot fathom the circumstances that would raise that number.”

Laura and Natasha came down the stairs, Laura pausing awkwardly halfway down. “Am I interrupting?” she asked cautiously.

Clint released Catriona, smiling up at his sister-in-law. “Not like you mean,” he grinned. “Just having a brother-sister moment.” He offered his hand to Natasha, who took it with a smile.

“This whole… dynamic… is confusing,” Laura admitted. She handed Catriona a stack of clothing, a pair of flip-flop sandals on top. “Here. Change into something a little more casual.”

Catriona thanked her and followed her directions into the bathroom. Natasha raised her eyebrow at Laura. “We told you there wasn’t anything sexual with Catriona.”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? I’ve never seen him hold anyone like that!” Laura protested.

Clint chuckled, tugging on Natasha’s hand until her body was flush with his, tucking her against him as he had Catriona. “That more like what you were expecting?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Natasha curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. She wasn’t sure yet where their bond would lead, but she knew she felt comfortable in his arms. Hesitantly she tilted her head up and kissed his neck. His hand cupped her head to him and she felt… cherished.

Laura stammered, blushing. “You don’t need to – I didn’t mean…”

“Didn’t do it cause I needed to,” Clint purred. He ran a hand down Natasha’s back, pulling her against him more tightly. He probably should be embarrassed, that he was essentially putting on a show for his sister-in-law, but he couldn’t find it in him to be ashamed. {I love you, Sunshine,} he told Natasha silently.

{I love you, dearling. But we’re making Laura’s head melt.} Natasha pulled away regretfully.

Catriona returned, wearing blue jeans and a button-down plaid shirt. Somehow she looked even tinier in it, with the sleeves rolled up. She was holding the sandals, still not wanting to put them on. “Did I miss them being adorable?” she asked Laura.

“Adorable is not the right word,” Laura said, somewhat dazed.

Natasha laughed, and Clint smiled at her. It was rare for her to laugh fully, relaxed enough to enjoy herself. He loved the sound, loved seeing her bloom here on the farm, far away from people who looked at her as a dangerous weapon.

“I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry,” Clint told Laura with a grin. “I’ll be good, though.”

“Very good,” Natasha whispered, and winked at him.

Catriona giggled. Clint supposed that one shouldn’t consider a sound of amusement from a divinely powered being twenty-three centuries old as a ‘giggle’ but there really wasn’t another word for it. “I am going for a walk,” she told them. “I wish to commune with Great Mother. I will be back at sunset.”

“Be careful!” Laura cautioned automatically. “And wear your shoes!” The druid waved the hand grasping the shoes at Laura and disappeared out the door. “She’s not going to put them on, is she?” Laura asked with a sigh.

“Nope,” Natasha confirmed. “Bare feet for talking to the Goddess. Well, as much bare skin as possible, really. Feet are just easiest.”

Clint’s grin was salacious. “How much bare skin are we talking about?” Natasha’s answering grin was equally impish.

“Enough,” Laura ordered, but without any heat. “Now you’re just teasing me. You know Barney’s gone for another three weeks.”

“Sorry, Laura,” Natasha repented. “Don’t mean to be difficult. It’s just… new.”

Clint’s lip had curled at mention of his brother, but his love for his sister-in-law stilled the reply he wanted to make. He yawned. “Maybe I should take a nap too,” he said thoughtfully, looking up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Laura’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, hell.”

Natasha frowned at her. “What?”

“Where are you all going to sleep? I’ve only got one guest room!”

Natasha looked at Clint, who shrugged. “Up to you, Sunshine,” he told her. “I can sleep with you in the bed, downstairs on the couch – hell, I can sleep in the barn if that’s what you want.”

{Did you have to call me that out loud?} she grumbled, but he could tell she was amused too. “We’d share the bed if Catriona weren’t here, right? So let’s see if she minds staying on the couch. Otherwise, I’ll bunk with Laura and you can sleep with Catriona.”

“Just like that?” Laura asked incredulously.

“Well, I slept with her last night, so it’s his turn,” Natasha said logically.

Clint had to stifle the very loud guffaw that her words provoked, looking at his sister-in-law’s face. “Slept, Laura. As in, curled up on the couch and snoring. No hanky panky was had.”

“I don’t snore,” Natasha retorted.

“Sure you don’t,” Clint agreed with a grin.

Seeing Laura still didn’t understand, Natasha tried to explain. “She’s touch-starved,” she told Laura, remembering the explanation she’d given Clint. “I don’t think she’s had many friends. She clings like a burr to the slightest physical touch, but there’s nothing sexual about it. I’d be shocked if she wasn’t a virgin.”

“Try hugging her, when she comes in,” Clint suggested. “Maybe it’s just us, because we’re Chosen, but I saw how she was with Lila. I bet you’d melt into a Catriona-hug too.”

“I bet even Phil would melt at a Catriona-hug,” Natasha added thoughtfully. She was surprised at the shaft of jealousy she felt from Clint. {What’s that for?}

{Don’t know. Just don’t like the idea of them together,} he answered, bothered by his own reaction. {Doesn’t sit right.}

Laura eyed them both, then shrugged. “All right. I’ll give it a try. She’s got to be something special, to get the two of you together. I guess it really did take an act of God to get you to talk about your feelings, didn’t it Clint?”

“Act of Goddess,” Clint corrected with a smile. “And yeah. It did.”

~ * ~

The farmland was beautiful, the kind of well-managed fields that reminded her of home and hearth. Catriona didn’t think that Laura managed the entire farm by herself, but whoever assisted her was skilled in agriculture.

She sank her toes into the fertile earth and reached for Gaia. \\\You are still troubled, Alanna,// the Goddess responded when the connection was made.

{I am,} Catriona admitted. {I don’t know why.} Wordlessly, the Goddess soothed her druid. {Am I ever to have what they have?} she asked, trying to keep from whining.

\\\Yes, my druid. Your heart mate will come, and you shall have your love and happiness,// Gaia reassured her.

{It has been so very long,} Catriona said with a sigh.

\\\You did not think that I would settle for less than the ideal mate for you, my druid?// There was humor and gentle chiding in the tone. \\\You shall have your achroi ghra, and it will be worth the wait. I cannot hurry the passage of time, but you are no longer alone. M’inion Nat and Boghdoir Barton may not be your beloveds, but they are fitting companions for you.//

{I am grateful.} She hugged her arms about her middle. {Teach me something new, Mother, so that I may think of things other than waiting,} she pleaded.

The goddess obliged, and they spent the time until sunset in study.

When Catriona returned to the farmhouse, now wearing the sandals, she felt more balanced. Her hours spent in lessons with Gaia were one of the constants of her life – no matter what subject, she enjoyed the knowledge. She walked in the front door, looking around for the other inhabitants.

Laura stepped out of the kitchen, gesturing to remain quiet. Catriona joined her. “Nat and Clint are taking a nap,” she told Catriona. Baby Lila was in a bassinet near the kitchen table, and Cooper was drawing with colored pencils.

“Good,” Catriona replied quietly. “There has been little enough rest for them as of late.” She sat down next to the boy, smoothing his hair down automatically.

Laura turned back to the stove and her dinner preparations, not sure how to treat Catriona after her discussion with Nat and Clint. There really wasn’t anything sexual in her behavior – she touched Cooper in exactly the same way she touched Clint. And she touched often, as though unable to help herself. Maybe Nat was right.

Who was she kidding? Laura chided herself. Of course Nat was right.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Laura queried, stirring a pot on the stove.

“Of a certainty,” Catriona responded immediately.

“Nat said something earlier… and it’s kind of embarrassing to ask but, are you a virgin?” Laura kept her eyes on the stove, fighting the flush that rose in her cheeks. She was usually more polite than that, and the other woman’s sexual experience or lack thereof was none of her business, but curiosity was eating at her.

“I am,” Catriona answered calmly. She handed Cooper a blue pencil when he asked for it. “When I was first brought into the Goddess’s service, it was considered paramount that one guard her virtue, as a marriage gift to her husband. Once I learned of achroi ghra – of heart bonds, and soulmates – I decided that I would wait, and keep that as my gift to my husband. I did not,” she added wryly, “expect it to take this long.”

Laura laughed. She couldn’t help it, and hoped Catriona wouldn’t misunderstand her amusement. “God, these days most young people don’t even wait until marriage, and you’ve waited two millennia?” Laura shook her head. “You have astounding self-control.”

“It is not so much a matter of self-control, but of being unwilling to settle for less than forever,” she admitted. “Great Mother has said that I will find my achroi ghra, and She does not lie – therefore, why would I wish to lay with a man who is not my heartmate? I fear it would cheapen the experience.” She shook her head. “There is no great nobility in it. I feel no condemnation for those who indulge in sensual pleasures, so long as it is with knowledge and consent.”

Laura mulled that over, giving the pot another stir, before walking over and sitting down next to Catriona at the table. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That I was weird earlier, about you and Clint. I didn’t understand. Nat obviously does, and it doesn’t bother her. I’m just not used to seeing people be so intimate without it also being sexual.”

Catriona’s smile was sad. “It is a rare thing these days, it is true. I have watched that intimacy die out, over time. It is a shame, for it was once far more common to see strangers touch, to see affection borne out through embraces that were not misinterpreted.” She fiddled with one of the colored pencils, frowning. “I do not know if it is because of my age, or because I am a druid, or because I am yet unbonded, but I find that few people touch me.”

Slowly, so that Catriona could pull away if she wanted, Laura wrapped her into a hug. The druid relaxed against her, eyes half shut. “More should,” Laura told her. She squeezed, then released Catriona. “Clint thinks there’s something magical about your hugs. I think he’s right.” The smile she received in response was beatific. 

“Thank you,” Catriona said, her smile shy.

“Before the lovebirds get up – look, I’ve only got the one guest room, and not all three of you will fit in that bed, no matter how close you are,” Laura told her. “So, you can sleep on the couch if you want, or Natasha said she’d stay with me and you can sleep in the guest room with Clint.”

“They should have the guest room,” Catriona decided. “This time is ostensibly to work on their bond, to become more comfortable in each other’s minds. It will be easier to do that without my presence.”

“So… couch?”

“That will be fine.” Her gaze shifted to the windows and the darkening skies. “I could stay outside, as well. It is no hardship.”

“No,” Laura said firmly. “No guest of mine sleeps outdoors.”

Catriona smiled. “I have slept in far worse places.”

“Sure, but you don’t have to now,” Laura informed her, moving back to the stove to tend to supper. “You’re family.”

~ * ~


	4. Food for Thought

Clint awoke to the aroma of home cooking mingled with the scent of Natasha’s hair on the pillow beside him. He decided arbitrarily that it was his favorite combination and that he would be content to wake up to it every day for the rest of his life.

{I like that,} she told him, her mental voice still sleepy.

{So do I,} he answered, and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. {Sleep well?}

{I always sleep well here,} she told him, stretching languidly against him. She moved like a cat and it had always intrigued him. Except he didn’t feel guilty for looking, now. {Look your fill,} she replied, amused.

{I am.} He smiled into her hair. {Smell supper? We should go downstairs.}

She shifted onto her side, looking at him. {In a minute.} There was a smile hovering at the corner of her mouth, the secret smile she saved just for him. {I want to look my fill, too.}

{Didn’t realize you ever looked,} he admitted. {Sneaky spy.}

{Of course I look.} She ran one hand down his chest, fingers exploring the fastenings of his shirt. {Just because I don’t know how to love doesn’t mean I don’t know how to lust.}

He covered her hand with his, stilling her fingers. {You know how to love, Sunshine. You love Catriona, and you love Laura, and you love the children. You love me. If you never manage to connect love and lust, that’s okay. There’s more to love than sex.}

{I want both,} she told him, tugging to free her hand. She was frustrated that she couldn’t seem to bridge the gap, irritated that her training and conditioning was robbing her of this. Terrified that she wouldn’t be able to overcome it, and that he would be unhappy.

He kissed her gently, so gently she wanted to cry. {Never unhappy with you, Sunshine. I’ll take you as you are, no matter what.} She kissed back, more urgently, but he steadied her with a soft brush of his hand. {Let’s get something to eat, and talk a bit, and we’ll come back to this. There’s no rush.}

She pulled back, blinking at him. {Don’t you want me?} she asked. She hated the insecurity in the question.

{Oh, hell yeah,} he replied, and pressed his body against hers in a way that proved his point. {But I want to do this right, and that means making sure my head and heart are in the game too. Okay?}

{Okay,} she agreed, and sat up. He rose as well, running his fingers through his hair. Clint stood, stretched, and offered his hand to Natasha. She took it, rising lithely, drawing close to him because she couldn’t stand the distance, not after having laid so close.

{I’m not going anywhere,} he told her, amused and touched. {C’mon, I’m hungry.}

She flashed him a smile and he felt it land in his heart, touching that space he’d reserved just for her – just for his Tasha. That thought made her smile widen, and she stepped close enough to press her lips to his. This time the kiss was sweet and long, and he held her against him, pressing his body into hers.

He released her gradually, surprised at how tightly he’d clutched her. “Okay, that one was legit,” he breathed.

“Yeah,” she agreed. She didn’t pull away yet, still savoring the taste of him on her lips. “I can do this,” she told him softly. It was both promise and prayer.

“Oh yeah, you can,” he agreed. He shifted uncomfortably and she laughed. “Well, you’re a damned good kisser, and now I have to go have dinner with two other very observant women, and you’re an evil minx.”

She laughed again as she trotted down the stairs, light on her feet. He followed after a moment, still shaking his head.

“Oh good, you’re up,” Laura said, catching sight of them in the hallway. Natasha snickered. “Supper’s almost done. Stone soup and fresh bread, and Catriona put together a salad.”

“I’m starving,” Clint told his sister-in-law.

“I’m pretty sure the smell of dinner is what woke him up,” Natasha confided with a half-smile.

Catriona sat at the kitchen table to one side of Cooper, both of them with colored pencils and paper before them. From the stack of finished artwork, it appeared that they’d been at this awhile. Catriona looked up when they entered, and her smile was wide and open. “Come, see what Cooper and I have been drawing,” she said, gesturing at the array of pages. Natasha approached obediently.

It appeared that Catriona had been taking the boy’s doodles and adding her own touches until they were fantastical beasts in many colors. It reminded Natasha of some of the illuminations she’d seen in medieval texts – but then, that would make sense, wouldn’t it, she told herself. “I draw the soul and she draws the body!” Cooper told her excitedly. “Lookee, Auntie Nat! This one’s you!” He shoved a piece of paper in her direction, and she picked it up.

It was a stylized cat, in black and red, with small touches of purple and an interesting cross-hatching around the collar. When she peered closer, she noted that it was small arrows in an interlocking pattern. “You’re really talented,” she told Cooper, but winked at Catriona so she’d know the comment was for her as well.

“It’s fun! Auntie Ona tells the bestest stories too!”

“Better than mine, buddy?” Clint asked, looking over Natasha’s shoulder at the drawing.

“Her stories are better,” Cooper said seriously, “but you’re better at bow and arrow.”

Clint laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Maybe your mom will let us practice tomorrow.”

Cooper’s eyes lit up. “Okay!” He returned to his artwork with Catriona, consulting her seriously on the color needed for his current drawing. Clint exchanged amused glances with Laura. Natasha still had the drawing of ‘her’ in her hand, looking uncertain.

“What is it, achara?” Catriona asked quietly.

“Is this… did you really draw this about me?” she asked, touching the drawing gently.

“Yes. Well, we both did. You can see the shape of what Cooper put down on paper, the bones of the piece, if you will. I just… clarified things a bit,” she said with a small smile. “Does it displease you?”

“No,” she said, eyes still on the cat.

Clint looked at her more closely, then slid his arm around her waist and hugged her gently. {You okay?}

{Cooper and Catriona don’t see the dark in me, Clint. They don’t see the blood and the violence and the ugly.} Her hand holding the page trembled, and she set it down carefully.

“She only looks harmless,” Catriona remarked to no one in particular. “You can’t see her teeth or claws because she isn’t protecting anyone, but they are still there. Tucked away, until they are needed.”

{She sees you, Sunshine,} Clint told her. {She just sees the good, too.}

Laura called from the stove. “Alright, time to clear off the table and get ready to eat!”

Catriona carefully gathered up the drawings, neatening the edges of the stack and placing them on a shelf of the china cabinet. She helped Cooper gather the colored pencils and fetch bowls, as Natasha stood rigidly beside the table, Clint’s arm around her. Laura raised an eyebrow but at Catriona’s discreet shake of the head, didn’t ask.

As Cooper scooted by her to put silverware on the table, she relaxed enough to help him. {Later,} she told Clint silently. {Not in front of civilians.}

Laura carried the pot of soup to the table, dropping a hotpad in the center and depositing the soup grandly. “Alright, soup, bread, salad. Let’s eat.” She ladled out portions, passing food with efficient movements until the table was silent save for the contented chewing of its occupants.

When conversation resumed, Natasha was content to let it happen around her. She was aware of the concerned looks in her direction but avoided them. She didn’t know how to explain what she felt. She felt Clint’s hand on her thigh, squeezing gently in reassurance, and she gave him a grateful half-smile.

“Cooper, it’s time for your bath,” Laura announced after dinner was eaten and the leftovers stored thriftily away. He grumbled, but she shooed him upstairs, holding Lila on her hip. Laura looked back over her shoulder at the three, hoping they’d talk. Something had upset Natasha – the only person who hadn’t noticed was Cooper.

When the children were gone, Catriona took Natasha’s hand gentle from where it rested on the table and clasped it in her own. “Tell me, achara,” she pleaded.

“It’s stupid,” Natasha began, but Clint shook his head sternly at her. “Alright. Not stupid, it’s just…” she trailed off, looking off into a distance at something no one else could see. “I’m used to people seeing me one way. I know how to handle that. The people who saw me as anything other than the Black Widow used to be counted on one hand with fingers left over. Now…” she sighed. “You, Gaia, Clint, Laura, Cooper, Phil… I don’t know how to be this other person you see. I know how to be the Black Widow,” she said, shrugging. “Dress to kill, looks that kill, killer curves. I got all that. But this… protective thing. Being someone that kids trust, that people like… it’s still new. I’ve been working on it, with Gaia’s help, but sometimes I look at the people around me and want to scream at them that they’re in danger just from being near me. I kill people. That’s what I was made to do.”

“That may be what you were trained to do in the Red Room, achara achroi, but it is no longer all that you are,” Catriona told her seriously. “You have not been that women in a number of years. Not since a SHIELD agent used his judgement over orders and brought you to the only authority figure he trusts, because he knew that there was more to you than just violence.” Her hands tightened on Natasha’s, her eyes focused intently. “Gaia does not choose wrongly, dearest sister. She does not choose evil. You were trained to be a weapon, but you have overcome that. You are no longer just a weapon – you are a shield. Yes, you are capable of violence – all of the Goddess’s Warriors are, and a great many of Her Druids as well. But I know, and Gaia knows, that you do not desire violence. You do not fear it, and you will not shy away from it, but you do not seek it.”

Natasha was unable to stifle her sob, and she covered her mouth with the hand not held by Catriona. “Maybe someday I’ll believe it,” she said quietly.

“I’ll tell you every day, as many times as it takes,” Clint told her. He scooted closer and pulled her against him again. “You’re a kickass woman, Nat, and you scare the pants off the bad guys. In a fight with twenty armed terrorists, I’d put money on you walking away without a scratch. But I wouldn’t hesitate to trust you with an innocent, either. Hell, I trust you with Cooper and Lila – Laura trusts you with them, too.”

“I know,” Nat murmured, turning her head into his shoulder.

Catriona rubbed her thumb across Natasha’s knuckles, wishing she could heal the wounds to Natasha’s soul as easily as she could heal her body. “Perhaps you should spend some time with Great Mother this eve,” she suggested. “You are distraught, and She may be able to help more than I.”

Natasha nodded silently. Clint gathered her up in his arms and carried her outside, murmuring softly to her. Catriona watched them go, thoughtful, hoping that Natasha could find some solace.

~ * ~


	5. Reassurances

Clint set Natasha down on the grass and tugged her shoes and socks off. She was passive in his arms and that scared him more than he wanted to admit. Unable to help himself, he wrapped her tightly against him again and laid down on the grass next to her, both of their sides pressed into the cool earth.

{Big Mama, I think we could use some help,} Clint said, hoping She could parse the pleading and desperation in his mind.

{I’m sorry,} Natasha said to him. {I don’t want you to hurt for me, dearling.}

{What the hell else am I going to do, Sunshine?}

\\\Be at ease, m’inion,// Gaia said gently. \\\Your achroi ghra loves you, and does not wish to see you in pain. Be at ease, boghdoir. Your achroi ghra will heal of this heartache, with your love.//

{You make it sound so simple,} Clint grumbled, arms tight around Natasha.

\\\The most difficult tasks are often quite simple, at their core,// the Goddess continued. \\\Simplicity does not mean ease, my dears. Were there still existing ties to your handlers, I would be able to break them and free you of the compulsions they wrought, but I fear I cannot undo the damage which you bear without also robbing you of the skills that came with them.//

{I didn’t expect another miracle,} Natasha replied. There was a hint of humor in her tone. {You’ve already given me my life, and Clint’s.}

\\\Aye, and I have given you each other, and Catriona Alanna. Would that I could do more, m’inion, but even Goddesses have limits. Trust in this, that I would not have Chosen you, were there darkness in your soul. You have indeed by trained to do and have done terrible things – but you choose now to use those skills for a higher purpose, and that is what sets you apart. There is one more thing which I may offer you – something which I can repair, should you find it desirable.//

Natasha became so still in his arms that Clint wasn’t certain she even breathed. {You can?} Natasha asked, and her mental voice was awed and a little alarmed.

\\\I can,// Gaia confirmed. \\\It would indeed be my privilege to restore that possibility for you, m’inion. I will not do so without your consent, and given the matter at hand, I would prefer that you and your achroi ghra reach that decision jointly.//

{Yes, Great Mother,} Natasha responded automatically. Clint was confused, but he pressed his mind to Natasha’s and the explanation burst into his own mind.

Children. Gaia could restore her ability to bear children.

The image of himself, cradling a blanket wrapped bundle with Natasha’s red hair flashed across his mind, and he didn’t know if it originated in his own mind or hers.

He’d known, of course, that the choice had been taken from her by the Red Room – it was something they’d talked about the first time he’d brought her home to meet Laura and then-newborn Cooper. It hadn’t changed his feelings for or about her, but this possibility was dazzling.

\\\Speak of it later, m’inion, boghdoir. I mention it now only so that you know I find you entirely worthy of bearing children, dearest Natasha, and I say that with complete conviction.// The Goddess filled Natasha’s mind and heart with that certainty – that she was good, that she was loved, that she was capable of loving.

Clint cradled her as she cried, but these tears seemed cathartic. When they eased and she wiped at her face, there was a soft smile in her eyes. {Thank you,} she said to both Clint and Gaia. 

{Anytime,} Clint reassured her.

\\\Indeed. Rest now, my Warriors.// Gaia’s touch faded from their minds.

Natasha twisted in his arms until she was facing him, still on the grass. {I love you.} She said it simply, and the sincerity in her tone made his own tears well up.

{I love you,} he replied. {Feel better, Sunshine?}

{Yes,} Natasha reassured him, pressing her hand to his cheek. {I suspect it will not be the last time I doubt myself though, dearling.}

{We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.} He propped his head up on one elbow, smiling down at her.

{We should go in,} Natasha told him reluctantly, letting the hand she’d brought to his face trace down his neck and shoulders, admiring the definition in his muscles. {Our sisters will be worried.}

{Yeah,} he agreed, leaning forward to kiss her. He’d meant it to be short and loving, but it didn’t stay that way. She returned the kiss, deepening it, pressing against him as though she could curl into his skin, stay safe in his arms. Clint wondered if their emotions were doing that weird echo thing they had done in the jungle, when he couldn’t tell who was angry and who was afraid – but this was definitely not fight or flight.

Smiling against her lips, he ran a hand possessively over her curves. {Let me know if you need to stop,} he told her, and then abandoned caution to the wind and sank into the heady, intoxicating experience of making love to Natasha Romanoff.

~ * ~

When Laura returned from putting the children to bed, Catriona was alone in the living room, a book open on her lap. She looked up when Laura entered and smiled. “It seems we’ve been left to our own devices. Clint and Natasha took my advice to speak with Gaia, and it appears to have gone well.”

Laura raised both eyebrows at her. “How do you figure?”

Catriona pointed out the side window, where a garment of some kind could be seen flapping in the night breeze. “Generally, the removal of clothing means that the trouble has either been solved or transmuted into something more productive.” She looked amused.

“Outside?” Laura looked appalled. “Good thing we don’t have any close neighbors.”

“Perhaps they are being considerate, and do not wish to disturb our rest?” Catriona asked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Right.” Laura sank onto the couch next to Catriona. “Are all bondings this… dramatic?” Laura asked.

“I have not witnessed many, to make such generalizations,” Catriona said with a shrug. “The circumstances which prompt a Warrior to be Chosen are often traumatic, and certainly that can complicate matters. It is most often a mortal wound which draws Gaia’s attention to the individual long enough to cement Her claim. Both Natasha and Clint were healed from certain death to join Her service. Given that, even an established romantic relationship would be difficult to balance through an event of such magnitude.”

“Huh.” Laura hugged one of the throw pillows to her chest, thinking. “Are there other ways, that She notices?”

Catriona frowned. “Yes, although not often. I have read that She will sometimes Choose the mates of those already bound to her – wives and husbands of Druids and Warriors. I hope,” she added with a half-smile, “that She will do so, when my own heartmate enters my life. I would prefer not to have my first meeting marred by fatal injury.”

Laura pondered that. “You’re pretty careful never to use a pronoun for your heartmate. Is that on purpose?”

“Yes,” Catriona replied. “It is possible that my heartmate would be a woman, although I believe it less likely – Great Mother has spoken of her desire for me to bear children, and that leads me to think that my beloved shall be male.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? That your mate might be a woman?”

“Why would it?”

She didn’t have an answer for that.

~ * ~


	6. Back to Phil

Evening slipped into night, and night slipped into days. The easy rhythm of life in the farmhouse swept Clint, Natasha, and Catriona along with it, soothing rough edges and providing a balm for tensions to come.

Catriona enjoyed Laura and delighted in spending time with the children. When not in her own studies with Gaia, she was often laughing and playing with Cooper, or cuddling Lila. Laura remarked to Natasha that it was the most time she’d had to herself since Cooper was born.

Clint and Natasha spent time both together and separately; they spoke to Gaia and worked on their physical training. Laura marveled at their sparring matches – they moved so seamlessly together that she would have thought them dancing if it hadn’t been for the weapons in their hands.

They’d spent four nights on the farm when Clint began to notice an odd… itchy sensation. It wasn’t exactly an itch because it didn’t seem to be physical – it was almost like an itch inside his skin. It was irritating, but he set thoughts of it aside to focus on his family and partner.

Natasha, though, was unable to ignore the sensation. In the midst of an early morning bout that was entertaining the children, Laura, and Catriona, Natasha spun a vicious kick at Clint’s head and took him down, hard. “I have had it with this!” she said. “What is that infernal noise?”

Catriona’s eyebrows shot up. “What noise?” she asked aloud.

“It’s not a noise for me, it’s an itch,” Clint grumbled, scratching at his shoulder blades. “I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin.”

Catriona’s casual pose stiffened, and she drew herself up carefully. “Is it a whisper, achara?” she asked Natasha cautiously. “A voice you can almost hear, but is just quiet enough that you can’t make out words?”

“Yes!” Natasha agreed vehemently, pointing at Catriona. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

“Is your itch where your weapon belongs, brother?” Catriona asked Clint, not answering Natasha’s question.

“Yeah, all along my back where the quiver sits, and where my armguards belong… what the hell, sis?”

Catriona didn’t answer them, but pulled her feet out of her sandals and planted them firmly in the earth, sinking her hands down as well. {Gaia? Is this your doing?}

\\\Of course, Alanna. They are feeling the pull of duty. It is not yet urgent, but they must return to their treorai.//

“Pack,” Catriona told them shortly. “That is Gaia hinting that you are needed. I did not expect you to feel it so strongly, so soon. We must return to your Coulson.”

\\\No, my druid,// Gaia interrupted, and all three heard her. \\\You may not join them in this. This is for my Warriors, not for my Druid. You may stay here, or you may return to your vale, but you must not join them.//

“Sorry, sis,” Clint said, with genuine regret. “Big Mama has spoken.”

Catriona bit her lip and looked at the children and Laura. “My cottage is a great distance from here, and traveling to and from is wearisome, even plane-walking. May I stay as your guest, Laura, until such time as we know what it is that Clint and Natasha must do?”

“Of course,” Laura agreed immediately.

Natasha and Clint both changed into tactical clothes and made short work of packing what little they’d brought with them. Clint came back down the front porch steps with a rucksack in each hand. “I’ll call in a favor to see if we can hop a flight to DC.” He dropped the rucksacks and swept Laura and the kids into his arms for a tight hug. “Take care of each other, will you?” he asked, and moved to hug Catriona as well.

Natasha’s embraces were more restrained but no less heartfelt. “Send word through Gaia if you need us,” she told Catriona quietly.

“I will. Be safe.”

And they were up the drive and out of view.

Laura sighed. “I hate this.”

“It is never easy, to see someone you love go forth into battle,” Catriona agreed.

“It’s not just that, it’s that they can’t tell me anything. Barney never can either. It’s all this classified crap.” Laura looked over her shoulder at Cooper, but he was far enough away not to hear her mildly bad language. “If my husband had been Chosen, I don’t think he’d have told me,” she confessed to the druid.

“That’s one of the reasons you need not fear he will be,” Catriona told her softly, before turning to answer Cooper’s question.

~ * ~

Just out of sight of the farmhouse, Clint pulled his cell phone out of a pocket and dialed. “Hey, Joe,” he said to the person who answered. “This is Hawkeye. Need to call in that favor.” He paused a moment. “It’s not that bad, I just need to get from Waverly to DC as fast as possible. My partner and I do.” Another pause. “That’s great, we’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” Clint slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Head to Bluebird Airport, south about ten miles.”

“You want to make ten miles in twenty minutes?” Natasha said, eyebrows raised. “On foot?”

“Nope.” He eyed the nearest parking lot. “Was going to boost a car.”

Natasha’s concern went from ‘mildly urgent’ to ‘holy crap, we’ve got to move now’ the moment she realized Clint was not joking. It was usually she who suggested illegal activities; usually he who was dissuading against them. For him to outright suggest they steal a car was out of the ordinary.

For her to disagree was less so, but until they knew the nature of the emergency, she didn’t want to draw attention.

{Gaia, is there a shortcut to get from here to Bluebird Airport?} Natasha asked.

{Hell, why didn’t I think of that?} Clint grumbled.

\\\There is a farmer headed to the airport to pick up freight – he is pulling alongside you now. He will take you.//

Clint stared at the pickup that came to a stop next to them. “Afternoon, folks,” the man in the driver’s seat said cheerily. “Heard you could use a ride. Hop in the back.”

Natasha was no less incredulous, but she leapt up and settled against the back window. “Thanks.”

Clint took a moment to shake the farmer’s hand through the open car window before he settled in next to Natasha. “Really appreciate this,” he told the stranger.

“Any friend of Mother’s is a friend of mine,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat in their direction. Without further discussion, he took off down the road in the direction they’d been walking.

Clint had hoped that the itch between his shoulder blades would have eased once they were on the move, but if anything it had intensified. He tried contacting Phil, who wouldn’t – or couldn’t, a small part of his mind insisted – answer the phone. He texted using one of their coded nonsense phrases, and the message had gone unread. Clint did not like what he was seeing.

Natasha’s thoughts were grim, too. It didn’t matter that Phil hadn’t expected them to check in for another five days – the man was never unreachable. It was one of his unwritten, unbreakable rules. Although, knowing Phil, they were probably written down somewhere.

Once the pickup merged onto the highway, Natasha ran out of patience and dialed Maria Hill. If Phil was Fury’s right hand, Maria was his left – and if anyone would know why Phil wouldn’t answer, it would be Maria.

“Hill,” came the cautious reply. Natasha blinked.

“It’s Romanoff,” she announced. “Have you seen Coulson?”

Maria’s pause heightened Natasha’s concern. “How did you… yes, I have. I have eyes on him right now.”

“Where is he?”

Clint’s eyes bored into hers, and he dropped into her mind to listen to both halves of the conversation as easily as though they’d been bonded for decades instead of days.

“He’s in medical. He was brought here by a local LEO about an hour ago. He’d been picked up for a drunk and disorderly last night—”

“Drunk and disorderly? We are talking about Phil Coulson?”

Maria sighed. “Yes. He went out on a date last night, apparently, and somehow his drink was dosed with something – medical is still running tests. It doesn’t look fatal, but it’s some kind of psychotropic mixed with truth serum. He has no impulse control, and he won’t stop talking.”

Clint fought with himself, wanting to grab the phone out of Natasha’s hand and demand more information. Natasha put a quelling hand on his knee. “Barton and I are on our way,” she told Hill. “As soon as he’s cleared medically, get him out of SHIELD. Does he have a place off site?”

“Get him out? Are you sure that’s—”

“Do you really think he wants the entirety of SHIELD to see him out of control?” Clint demanded angrily.

{Ease up. She’s trying to do what’s best for Phil,} Natasha warned, squeezing his knee. “He’s right, Maria. Get him off site. If he doesn’t have a place, text me and I’ll send you an address and combination. Just… get him out, get him safe.”

“And don’t mention us yet,” Clint cautioned. “Not until you’re off-site.” Natasha raised her eyebrows in question. “If he can’t stop talking, it’s just going to set him off on subjects he can’t talk about with you,” Clint explained to Maria carefully. Natasha met his eyes, her look inquiring.

“I’ll take care of it. Hill out.”

Beside her, Clint was holding himself rigid, breathing shallowly and staring at nothing. When Natasha finished her call and touched his arm, his muscles were tensed up, coiled like a leopard about to pounce. “If we’re running halfway across the country just because the man tried to get laid, I’m going to be very pissed,” he said in a low voice. “What was he doing at a bar? He never goes out. And a bar where people dose drinks?”

“It might not have been a date,” Natasha told him. “He could have been gathering intel.” The answer didn’t reassure Clint. {What is it, dearling?}

Clint gritted his teeth and tried very, very hard to keep his thought private from her, but she caught the edges of it. It would be hyperbole to say her jaw dropped, but there was definite surprise on her face. {I’m sorry,} he apologized as she examined the thought.

Jealousy… angry, spiky, violent jealousy – not that Phil might get lucky, if he were on a date, but that whoever he took to his bed wouldn’t be a certain archer. Then the jealousy sapped away, leaving him feeling desperate. What if this itch wasn’t just jealously? What if Phil was still in danger? What if Natasha couldn’t live with the fact that she wasn’t the only one he wanted in his bed?

{Are you kidding? The mental image of the two of you, sweaty in a bed with Phil’s tie undone? That’ll keep me going for weeks,} she told him. There was humor in her tone but seriousness is her eyes. 

{You think Phil without his tie is sexy?} Clint asked, unable to help himself. {I’ve seen him in the locker room. I’m pretty sure mere mortals wear suits to look more masculine… Phil wears his to look less alpha male.}

Natasha groaned and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. {I don’t doubt it, but that image is going to be burned in my brain now. How am I supposed to take orders from him in the field when I’m picturing him naked?}

{Welcome to my pain,} Clint told her, trying for humor. There was genuine emotion behind it, though – desire, certainly, but also a terrible fear that he’d hurt her with his admission, that she would be bothered by the idea, that she would…

{Cut it out,} she ordered. {I knew you were bi, Clint. We’ve been partners in the field for years. I’ve seen you check out women, and I’ve seen you check out men. Even watched a few slink away from motel rooms.}

{You didn’t say anything,} he protested.

{None of my business, then,} she told him, tossing her hair defiantly. {Definitely my business now, but it doesn’t bother me – because it’s Phil. I’ve always known I shared you with Phil, dearling. Always. Trust me, you look anywhere else and I’ll see to it you’ve got fewer body parts to keep track of… but Phil is different.}

{You shouldn’t have to share now,} he said desperately. {I thought it would go away, now that we’re bonded. Shouldn’t it have gone away?}

{Why? You don’t love either of us more than the other. I knew that before I got a glimpse in your hard head, Barton.}

Clint closed his eyes, wrapping an arm around her. {Shouldn’t you be enough?} he said plaintively.

The smile on Natasha’s face was both fond and mischievous. {What if you aren’t enough for me? What if I want my cake and pie too? You going to deny your heartmate?}

He shot her a look. {Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Tash.}

{I mean it,} she told him seriously. {If that’s what you need – if that’s what he needs – then I’m in. Otherwise… I’ve got no complaints, dearling, if it’s just you and me. But if it isn’t… that’s okay too.}

{I love you.} There wasn’t really anything else he could say, so he held her close.

They were silent until reaching the airfield. Clint met up with his buddy and they traded casual insults while loading into a helicopter. Natasha pressed several bills into the farmer’s hand before he could pull away. “I know Gaia thanked you, but this is between you and me,” she murmured to him.

He pocketed the cash and smiled. “Never hurts to follow Mother’s advice, and now and again I get to see a pretty little thing like you,” he said with a wink. Natasha turned away from him, smiling, wondering just who this man was.

She followed Clint into the helicopter, buckling herself in. She wondered idly how many airmiles she’d accumulated, jumping between DC and the farm. This was by no means the only time they’d done it – and it wouldn’t be the last. The flight itself was uneventful, and they disembarked at a private air strip just outside the district. Natasha checked her phone, and there was a text from Maria will an address—Phil’s off site housing.

Clint contemplated stealing a car, but Natasha just pulled him outside into traffic and hailed a cab. When they finally arrived at the foot of Phil’s building, both of them were taut as bowstrings. Clint darted up the two flights of stairs, knocking on the door sharply.

Agent Maria Hill opened the door, pistol in one hand, and took in their appearances. “What’d you do, run here?” she said, but stepped aside to let them in.

“Would have. Didn’t have to,” Clint answered absently.

“He’s in the bedroom,” Maria told him. “I’ve got to get back to base. Let me know if he needs anything.” She slipped past Natasha, who caught her arm before she could close the door.

“Nothing you heard him say goes in any file,” Natasha said in a low, menacing voice. “I don’t care what it was. Not a word.”

Hill jerked her arm out of Natasha’s grasp. “He’s my friend too, Romanoff,” Hill retorted before retreating.

Natasha let her leave, closing and locking the door behind her. Clint stood in the hallway, clearly wanting to enter the bedroom but not sure if he should – or could. She moved to stand next to him, slipping her hand into his, and pushed open the bedroom door.

“What are you doing here?” Phil asked. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, still dressed in a suit, looking as perfectly ordinary as he ever did. The only indication that he’d spent a night and morning dealing with the after-effects of a chemical cocktail was redness in his eyes.

“Got a distress call from the mothership,” Clint told him. His relief at seeing Phil unharmed made his knees weak, and he was afraid if he didn’t sit, he was going to fall. He pulled on Natasha’s hand and she followed him as he sank into a seated position in front of Phil on the floor.

“I didn’t ask for help,” Phil objected.

“We know,” Natasha told him. “Apparently we weren’t supposed to feel warnings yet. The Goddess seemed… surprised.”

Phil rubbed his hands across his face. “Is Hill gone?” he asked. Clint nodded, and something in Phil’s posture relaxed. It wasn’t dramatic, just enough to tell Clint he’d been keeping himself in check with an enormous force of will. “Thank God. Or Goddess, I suppose.”

“What happened?” Natasha asked. She kept her voice low and unthreatening, not wanting to alarm him if he was still experiencing the effects of the drug.

Instead of answering, Phil looked away. “Right now, I don’t think I can lie,” he told them. “So don’t ask if you don’t want to know.”

“We want to know,” Clint told him, touching his leg.

“I went out… to find someone to drown my sorrows with, or in,” he said, with a half-smile Clint recognized as one of Natasha’s. “Wasn’t being careful, I was too caught up in my head.”

“About us?” Natasha asked carefully.

Phil nodded sharply, still not making eye contact. “I was engaging a young man in conversation when I noticed… something off. He…” Phil shook his head. “I don’t think it was a targeted attack. Hill told me there were several other bar patrons taken to local hospitals with similar symptoms. Some idiot wanting to spice up his night, I suppose.”

“Did it?” Clint asked before he could stop himself. He groaned. “Sorry, Phil. Don’t answer that.”

“He wasn’t what I wanted,” Phil told him, answering in spite of Clint’s protest. “Who I wanted.”

“Who did you want, Phil?” Natasha asked, her eyes intent on him. “Was it Clint? Or me?”

It wasn’t fair of her to ask now, when he couldn’t seem to refuse. She knew that, but the words were in the air before she could stop them. They hung thick as smoke between them.

“That’s the problem,” Phil said finally, the words almost painful in his throat. “I want you both. And I can’t have either of you.”

~ * ~


	7. Rest for the Wicked

“Why not?” Clint said into the silence that followed Phil’s admission.

Phil glared at him. Clint recognized the look. It was Phil’s ‘Barton, you’ve just said something incredibly stupid and now I must reveal the depths of your ignorance to you’ look, but he’d been completely serious when he asked.

“Is it the bond?” Natasha asked.

“Not entirely,” Coulson admitted.

“Then what? You’ve never even asked, Phil,” Clint pointed out. “Hell, Nat and I weren’t even – neither of us were spoken for until a couple of days ago. Clear playing field.” He was puzzled, and perhaps a little hurt.

“Fraternization between agents is against SHIELD policy,” Phil repeated. “I’ve said it so many times it might as well be engraved on my lips.” He winced. “I didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

“You’re – you – wouldn’t – but – ” Clint was reduced to stammering, spluttering at Phil incoherently.

“Full sentences, please, Clint,” Phil asked in a tired voice.

“You never call me Clint,” he replied after a moment of stunned silence.

“As we’re discussing my physical attraction to the both of you, it seems as though titles are a bit too formal,” Phil told him. There was a hint of a smile at the corners of his eyes, which Natasha took to be a good sign.

“So, you decided that he and I could have each other, because the Goddess said so, but that neither of us could have you? Or that you weren’t worthy of us?” Natasha asked, tilting her head to look up at him inquisitively. “It’s okay to break regulations at the insistence of a divine being, but nothing less for you?”

Phil laughed. There was more pain than humor in the sound, and Clint’s heart squeezed. {Damn it, Sunshine. We’re not getting through to him, and it’s like watching him bleed out.}

{I know, dearling.} Natasha released Clint’s hand and stood smoothly, resettling herself on the bed next to Phil. Clint joined them, bracketing Phil between them. “I think you never said anything because you were afraid the answer would be no,” she told Phil quietly. She slid a hand along his back. “You never gave us the opportunity, because that meant never having to accept a refusal.”

“Don’t,” Phil protested. He hung his head, rubbing his temples. “I won’t risk your careers over… me.”

“Phil, you are our career,” Clint told him. The mask of jocularity, his inherent puckishness, dropped away and Phil saw the full strength of the man before him – absolute and unwavering loyalty, a devotion that transcended responsibility and became something more. “I wouldn’t have stayed at SHIELD if you weren’t there. Neither would Natasha. If you were to quit in an hour, ninety minutes from now my resignation would be next to yours, and it wouldn’t be the only one. I know SHIELD does good work, and the mission is important, but I don’t work for SHIELD. I work for you.”

Phil breathed deeply and it caught in his chest like a sob. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Nobody asked you,” Natasha countered.

“If I were as worthy as you say – as you believe – why didn’t Catriona choose me? Why didn’t your Goddess choose me?”

{Holy hell, is he actually jealous?} Clint said in Natasha’s mind, eyes wide.

{Appears so.}

{Crap.} Clint shook his head slowly. “Phil, do you know why we’ve both been Chosen? It’s because we were dying. No offense, but I really hope you never are Chosen, because that would mean that you’d gotten within a hair’s breadth of death, and I don’t think I could take that.”

“Catriona could see our bonds with you, even though you aren’t Chosen,” Natasha added, her hand continuing to rub Coulson’s back gently. “She told me after you’d gone to bed that if she’d remembered we were your two strongest ties, she’d have told you about our bond differently.”

Phil blinked, evidently startled by that – or as startled as Phil ever was. “She could see? How I feel about you both, I mean?”

“Not how you feel, exactly,” Natasha corrected. “More that she sees the connections between us. She compared it to threads and weavings and tapestries, it was all very beautiful and symbolic.”

Phil’s lips twitched. “Isn’t she always beautiful and symbolic?”

Natasha jerked back and stared. “Are you… teasing me?” she asked in amazement.

“I do know how, Natasha. I just choose to use my powers for good, rather than evil,” he added thoughtfully, but she could see the delighted glimmer in his eyes.

Clint wrapped his arm around Phil’s waist, slipping his hand between Natasha and Phil on the far side. “Don’t call Catriona beautiful,” he advised, his tone only half joking.

Phil raised an eyebrow, both at Clint’s touch and his words. “She is. Why wouldn’t I say so?”

Clint groaned. {How do I tell him that the idea of him with someone else turns me into a mindless jealous bastard?} he asked Natasha.

“Clint gets jealous,” Natasha told Phil, with an impish grin at Clint. “He just doesn’t know how to tell you that.”

“That was not what I had in mind, Sunshine,” Clint snapped. Natasha only chuckled. “It’s true, Phil,” he admitted finally. “Nat and I talked about it on the way here. She got a taste of what the green-eyed monster turns me into.”

Natasha touched his arm soothingly, where it was wrapped around Phil. “You were too busy bemoaning your own to notice mine,” she informed him. She flicked a glance at Phil’s face. “I don’t like the idea of you with anyone but us.”

Phil wanted to stand and pace, but he had to admit to himself that their proximity was comforting. “Are we discussing – is this – both of you?” he finally asked.

“Either or both,” Clint agreed, looking at Natasha.

“That’s… unusual.”

Natasha smirked. “Did you expect normal from us?”

“Not particularly, but I can usually predict your behavior more reliably than I have today.” Phil rubbed his face and tried not to think about the fact that he was leaning in towards Clint’s arm.

“Cut yourself some slack,” Clint advised. “It’s not every day you get dosed with the bastard child of LSD and sodium pent.”

“No.” Phil sighed. He let himself relax into the bed, onto Clint’s shoulder, into Natasha’s hand. It had been so very long since he’d truly relaxed, he realized. It was no wonder he felt tired.

“Sleep, treorai,” Natasha urged in a soft voice Phil didn’t remember ever hearing her use before. “Clint and I are here.”

“Not going anywhere,” Clint promised.

Phil allowed himself a yawn. “Even I don’t sleep in my suit,” he told them. 

“Then take it off,” Natasha purred in his ear.

Clint grinned at Phil’s expression. “Evil minx, isn’t she?”

“Very,” Phil agreed drily. He stood though, and began to unbutton his shirt, moving hesitantly.

“If you need us to leave…” Clint offered, not sure what he’d do if Phil actually asked them to.

“No,” Phil said. He continued undressing until he stood in a white t-shirt and boxers, feeling self-conscious. Sitting on the edge of his bed looking expectantly were two of the most beautiful beings he’d ever met – and he was feeling every day of his years.

Natasha pulled the covers of his bed aside and patted, indicating he should slide in. He did so, and she shucked off all of her weapons and the majority of her tactical clothing. Beside her, Clint did the same – though he had more clothing and fewer weapons.

Clint slid into bed beside him, on his right, and Natasha on his left. Phil lay there a moment, waiting for the awkwardness to make itself known.

He’d fallen asleep, snug between them, before he realized there wasn’t any to be had.

~ * ~


	8. Return to Pastoral

Natasha was fairly certain she had cuddled more in the last week than she had in the entirety of her life. She wasn’t complaining – who would, wrapped in a duvet with two of the most attractive men she knew – but it was a strange thing to realize. She supposed it was possible that she’d had this much affection when she was a child, but she didn’t remember it clearly if she had.

Despite the slumbering presences of Phil and Clint, Natasha couldn’t sleep. Part of that was probably because she’d gotten used to getting by on much less sleep, and the days of vacation they’d had were not exactly strenuous. Another part of it was wanting to watch over her—well, what should she call them? Her men? Boyfriends? She pondered that, turning over terms and phrases in her mind, trying them on for size and disregarding those that pinched at her sensibilities.

She had not made a decision yet when Clint woke. He didn’t move to rise, but she felt the change in his attention as he stroked a finger down her arm, where it lay tucked securely around Phil. {I have a new favorite thing about being bonded,} he told her. 

{Oh?} she prompted, amused. {What was the last one?}

{Being able to talk while kissing.}

{Right. And your new one?}

He grinned. {Not having to worry about waking Phil up.}

{That’s a good one,} Natasha agreed, returning his smile. Clint hadn’t slept long, but his mind had the fresh taste she associated with being deeply rested. {I texted Laura and let her know we were fine, that Phil was fine,} she told him. 

{Thank Goddess. I completely forgot.}

{There was not much space in your brain left for anything but Phil,} she teased gently. {I figured I should take care of the rest of it.}

Clint winced. {Sorry.}

{Don’t be.} Natasha nudged him with a finger, careful not to prod Phil. {Do I look uncomfortable or unhappy to you?}

{You look delicious,} he responded immediately.

She stifled the chuckle that bubbled up at that. {You’re biased. Really, stop worrying about it. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t. You know that.}

{Yeah, well. You have your issues, I’ve got mine.} He sighed. {I suppose it’s too much to hope that SHIELD scuttlebutt won’t know about this little incident.}

{Hill will keep quiet,} Natasha reassured him.

He scowled. {Yeah, but will everyone else? He was brought in by LEOs, was up in medical for who knows how long – and if people knew the circumstances…}

{Worried about his reputation?} Her question was amused.

{Yes,} Clint said honestly. {It’d kill him if people treated him differently over this. If he’s lost respect.}

{I don’t think there will be that kind of backlash. Particularly if an exceptionally juicy rumor about it having been an undercover op just happens to start circulating,} Natasha added with a small, self-satisfied smile. Laura Barton had not been the only person she’d texted while Clint was asleep.

{Evil minx,} Clint shot back, but she could tell he was relieved. Absently he stroked Phil’s back. Clint laid on his back and Phil had half-draped himself over Clint while he slept; Natasha was spooned behind Phil, her arm reaching over him to rest on Clint’s stomach. Phil stirred at his touch, but only pressed tighter against the archer and settling into a deeper sleep. {I’ve never seen him so relaxed,} Clint marveled. Natasha hadn’t either, but she hoped it would become a regular occurrence. {Think we can get him to come out to the farm with us for the rest of our leave?}

{Doubt it.} She nuzzled Phil’s neck lightly, unable to resist. {I can’t actually remember the last time he took time off.}

Clint snorted. {He doesn’t. But I was hoping we could talk him into changing that. You can be very… persuasive.} The look he shot her was slyly sensual.

{Let’s not start out a relationship trying to change him, hmm dearling?} Natasha said sweetly. He winced. {I know that’s not how you meant it, but knowing Phil…}

{Yeah, that’s how he’d see it. Good call, Sunshine… as always.} He grinned. {We’ll just have to work on him, I guess.}

{Speaking of calls… what would you like me to call you two?} she asked. {Boyfriends? Lovers? Boytoys?}

{Uhh…} That question kept him stumped for some time. She’d fallen into a nearly hypnotic state before he answered her. {Partners,} he told her finally. {Anything else leaves out too much.}

Natasha raised her eyebrow in his direction. {Isn’t partner a little vague?}

{Were you planning on advertising? Besides, partner covers it all – work, personal, trust, love, the whole nine yards.}

{This is true,} she admitted. She still didn’t like the idea. It may have included more of their lives, but it left out the inherent intimacy. {Maybe I’ll just stick with achroi ghra.}

{Nobody knows what that means, Sunshine.}

{The people who matter do.} Clint rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue with her. 

It was some time later – Natasha hadn’t been keeping track of the time, and only knew it was the morning after they’d left the farm – that Phil woke. He tensed beneath their arms, and Natasha had to bite back a sigh of frustration that their hours of relaxing him were apparently over.

“It’s just us, Phil,” Clint told him quietly. “Just me and Tash.”

The tension in his body eased, and he stopped trying to pull away from Clint. “Guess I wasn’t dreaming, then,” he said into Clint’s shoulder.

“No,” Natasha agreed, kissing the back of his neck. “Drugs out of your system? You sound better.”

“They must be. I feel clear-headed, at least.” Or, he reflected, as clear-headed as one could feel when waking up sandwiched between the objects of personal fantasies.

Clint grinned. “We could always fuzz your brain for you, again. Natasha does this thing with her knee that makes me –”

“Don’t,” Phil cut him off. “I don’t want to joke about that.”

“Sex? Or being muddled?” Natasha asked.

“Both,” he said firmly. “I don’t want this… us… to be some sort of game.”

“It isn’t,” Clint assured him.

“He just has a hard time taking anything seriously,” Natasha said in an overly loud whisper. It startled a laugh out of Phil.

Clint had to fight every instinct he had not to rise to her bait: throwing ‘hard time’ into a sentence while they were in bed. The look she gave him, along with the smug smirk of her lips, told him she knew exactly what he was thinking, and dared him to do something about it.

“You are an evil minx,” he told her solemnly. Phil chuckled again. “We’re not taking this lightly, Phil. We just… well, she’s kind of right. I have a reputation for not taking things seriously; wouldn’t do to have that change now.”

“Speaking of reputations…” Phil said hesitantly. “I’m not sure what… is known, at SHIELD.”

Natasha’s reply was just shy of haughty. “Scuttlebutt has it you were dosed with an experimental truth serum while during an intel handoff at a local establishment,” she told him. “Obviously the truth serum wasn’t what it was advertised as – no one would believe some of the things you said under the influence.”

His answering chuckle was equal parts amused and relieved. “One step ahead of me, as always.” He reached one hand back to touch her hip. “Thanks.”

She smiled against the back of his shoulder blade. “I’d say anytime, but I’d rather not be spreading rumors about my achroi ghra’s aberrant behavior again.” Phil’s body stilled beneath her lips. He knew perfectly well what that phrase meant, having had it explained to him by Catriona herself – and he was plainly surprised to hear it applied to himself.

“You surprised him, Sunshine,” Clint told her cheerfully.

“I noticed.” She ran a soothing hand down his side. “I didn’t mean it to upset you.”

“It didn’t… upset me, exactly.” He searched for a way to explain himself. “I just didn’t realize…”

“That I felt for you what I feel for Clint?” she filled in for him, when he stalled. He nodded against Clint, unable or unwilling to answer her. “Silly man,” she said fondly, and pulled him closer to her.

“I make it a point not to assume,” he told her, but his tone was warmer than it had been. Perhaps he was finally accepting that they actually meant what they offered?

Phil’s phone rang, and he let out a deep sigh. “Hand it to me, would you love?” he asked Natasha, who snatched it off the bedside table. He didn’t appear to have noticed the endearment. “Coulson,” he said into it. “Yes sir, I’m much improved. No, there do not appear to be any lingering effects, aside from a marked distaste for mixed drinks. I can be in within the hour if you – of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” He ended the call, blinking at his phone. “Either Fury is going soft, or I was more… out of it… than I thought. I’ve been ordered to take off, until you two are back on duty. Apparently, I work too hard,” he told them.

“I could have told you that,” Clint murmured. “Well, good. That means you can come back to the farm with us. We’ve got another four and a half days worth of leave, and I want to spend it spoiling my niece and nephew, and watching Laura twit Catriona about going barefoot in the fields.”

Phil’s eyebrow twitched. “Just like that? You’re going to take me home to your family?”

“Well, yeah,” Clint told him, sitting up. “Laura and Catriona have pestered us enough about it already. I thought I’d have to do some creative begging to get you to take time off. I even had a little speech prepared in my head about family.”

Natasha stretched and rose as well, moving around the room to gather articles of clothing. “Let me text Laura and tell her we’re coming back, plus one. How do you want to get there this time, dearling? I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of helicopters.”

“We can take Lola,” Phil offered. 

The stunned look on Clint’s face was comical. “For real?” He sat down, hard, on the edge of the bed. “Hell, Sunshine, he’s serious too.”

“I know,” Natasha assured him, touching his arm gently. She turned back to Phil. “We’d love to take Lola, and believe me, I know what an honor that is.”

He smiled at them, and she was pleased to see that it wasn’t the dull, polite smile he wore on duty – there was genuine warmth there, and good humor in his eyes. “Just don’t expect to drive her. Tell me,” he asked as he began to gather his own clothes. “What’s with the pet names? You’ve never used them before.”

Natasha ran their commentary back through her head and realized that at some point – probably when Phil had awoken – she and Clint had ceased speaking privately. “Just when I get used to the silent talking…” she muttered. “We weren’t doing it on purpose – we’ve been practicing talking mind-to-mind, and the nicknames were just inside our heads… but apparently they slip out when we’re comfortable.”

Clint snickered. “You mean I slipped often enough that you decided turnabout was fair play?”

“Yes,” she told him, tossing him a sock. “Not like they are terribly embarrassing. I’d rather our pet names for each other than the names Great Mother calls us.” For a moment, Clint looked like he was going to tease her about that, but he desisted at her sharp look.

“Will you tell me your Goddess names, sometime?” Phil asked curiously.

“You, yes,” she said with a warm smile. “Catriona knows them as well. But it is… intimate. It is not a name I want others to call me. Sunshine I don’t mind, even though it’s silly,” she said, with a smile for Clint. “I like the way his mind feels when he says it.”

Phil dressed in one of the few pairs of jeans he owned and a worn SHIELD t-shirt. As he filled a bag with necessities, Natasha stepped back and looked at him, head tilted. “Damn. Clint was right.”

“About?” Phil asked absently, plucking socks from a drawer.

“You wear the suit to look less delicious, not more,” she told him. He turned, to find her eyes locked on him and an almost predatory look in her eyes.

“Told ya,” Clint crowed.

“You discussed my backside?” he asked, fighting to keep the smile off of his face.

“Hell, yeah,” Clint told him, smacking the aforementioned body part.

Phil’s expression was amused and flattered. He zipped up his bag and gestured for them to precede him out the bedroom. “I’ll pick up Lola, and come back for you,” he said, slipping a windbreaker on.

“He just wants a moment alone with the other woman in his life,” Natasha said to Clint, who grinned.

“Can’t fault him for that. Lola’s curves are almost as good as yours.”

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my version of the Marvel world, Lola is a four-seater. I know it's a terrible thing to do to a lovely car, I'm doing it anyway.


	9. Chosen Family

When Phil drove Lola up the Barton homestead driveway, the sun had just crested noon. They’d made exceptional time – primarily because Phil seemed to know every unpatrolled back road between here and DC – and all three were pleasantly relaxed. Phil stepped onto the packed dirt, closing the car door behind him and giving the car a fond pat. Clint hid a grin.

The farmhouse door burst open and Cooper raced out. “Uncle Clint! Auntie Nat! You’re back!”

Clint swung him up in the air. “Told you we’d be back. Hey, I want you to meet your Uncle Phil. This little man is my nephew, Cooper.”

Cooper greeted the newcomer gravely. “Hi.”

“Good afternoon, Mister Barton,” Phil said with a small smile.

The solemnity that Phil gave the greeting made Cooper giggle, and suddenly he was back to being the enthusiastic and energetic child. “I’m glad you’re back, Auntie Ona was worried,” Cooper confided. “And Momma said a bad word.”

Natasha stifled her chuckle, following Clint and Phil up the farmhouse steps.

Catriona and Laura were in the kitchen with the children. Laura was putting away the remains of lunch while preparing a dish to go in the oven for supper. Having been forewarned of the returning visitors, there was plenty of food for the five adults and one child for both meals – she waved at the refrigerator for Clint, Natasha and Phil to help themselves. “Hi. You must be Coulson,” Laura offered her hand to the only unfamiliar face.

“Phil, please,” he corrected. “It’ll be nice to be reminded that my first name isn’t ‘Agent.’”

Natasha laughed. “Been around Stark too much lately?” 

Phil rolled his eyes. “Don’t laugh, you’re up for an op at Stark Industries,” he told her with a smirk. “We’ll see how you handle Tony Stark.”

“You look relaxed, treorai,” Catriona greeted him, offering him both hands in a ritual greeting that he didn’t understand but accepted anyway. She followed it with a warm hug. “I am glad that you are unharmed by your ordeal. Great Mother was not forthcoming with details.”

“Auntie Ona, are you going to tell me another story?” Cooper piped up from the table. Catriona laughed and returned to the table.

“Of course, lad. What would you like to hear next?”

Cooper grabbed a green colored pencil and sat with it poised against a fresh paper. “Tell me one with a frog in it!”

Phil chuckled, turning away from the table and coming face-to-face with Lila Barton, reaching out for him from Laura’s arms. “Well, hello there little darling,” he greeted her, and his voice had just a hint of Southern honey in it that neither Clint nor Natasha had ever heard. “Aren’t you a pretty thing.” He held out his hands and Laura deposited the baby in them. “I should have known you’d be a beaut, your name is just one letter off from my Lola.” He bounced the baby gently and she sent up a peal of bell-like laughter. His answering grin was delighted. “What a happy girl!” He looked up, eyes shining, and caught sight of all four adults gaping at him. “I can’t like babies?” he asked almost defensively.

“It was… unexpected,” Natasha told him. “Not that I think there are many people who could resist baby Bartons, but…” she gestured at Lila, who was gazing up at Phil as though he were the most fascinating thing she’d ever laid eyes on. “You’re really good with her.”

“I watch a lot of Supernanny,” he told her, letting his passive work face slip over his features for a moment before grinning. “I have three sisters and a dozen nieces and nephews. Believe it or not, I actually have changed diapers.”

The image that flashed through Clint and Natasha’s minds – some combination of each of their thoughts, melded together – was of Phil, cradling a child that has Natasha’s face and Clint’s eyes. Natasha swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, and Clint stepped to her immediately, slipping his arm around her. “Are you alright, Sunshine?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah.” She tried for a reassuring smile but only managed halfway. “Thinking about the Goddess’s offer a little harder, that’s all.”

At Phil’s questioning eyebrow, Clint shook his head. “Later,” he told Phil.

Laura crossed her arms and tapped one toe against the hardwood floor. “Out with it, Clinton Francis Barton,” she ordered, and he winced. 

“The full name? Really, Laura?” he whined.

“Go ahead and tell her. And Phil,” Natasha told him, but she stepped over to the table so that she didn’t have to listen. She sat down next to Catriona, tuning in to the druid’s tale of an enchanted frog who helped guide a noble knight on his perilous quest. “You actually reciting something, or making it up as you go along?” Natasha asked quietly.

“A wee bit of both,” Catriona admitted with a chuckle. “I’m glad you’re back, achara. Much as I enjoy Laura and the children, I missed you, and your achroi ghra.” Her smile turned slightly wicked. “Both of them.”

“How long did you know?” Natasha asked.

Catriona laughed. “My dear sister, that both men shared space in your heart was obvious from the moment you prayed to Gaia. They were the first two names you prayed for, achara.”

Natasha blinked, surprised. “I… suppose they were.” She thought about that for a moment. “So the telepathy thing only happened because Clint was Chosen too?”

“Aye, tis only when both sides of a bond serve the Goddess that it becomes something more. Were, for some reason, your treorai to be Chosen, likely he would join in your unspoken communion.”

“You get more Irish when you talk like that,” Natasha informed her.

“I have no notion what you are talking about,” Catriona said loftily, tossing her red hair. Natasha laughed and looked over where her achroi ghra were standing with Laura.

Phil had been startled by the idea that Gaia could restore Natasha’s ability to bear children. Despite what he knew of Her healing capacities, that seemed out of the realm of possibility altogether. Still, he had to admit that the idea of Natasha carrying a child – either his or Clint’s, it honestly didn’t matter to him – was alluring.

Laura wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea. As much as she loved her brother-in-law, he didn’t seem the parent type, and Natasha even less so. She didn’t know Phil well enough to speculate, but given their unusual relationship, surely kids weren’t on the immediate horizon?

Clint looked over at Natasha. {You okay now?}

{Yes, dearling,} she reassured him. {I just needed a moment to settle myself. Thank you for telling them.}

Phil, still cradling Lila, moved to sit across from Natasha at the dining room table. The baby was still fascinated by him, and Catriona smiled at the pair of them. “I see that she has made another conquest,” Catriona said, handing Cooper another colored pencil. “She is a terrible flirt, that one,” she said, reaching across the table to tap Lila gently on the nose with one slender finger. The baby giggled.

“Takes one to know one,” Clint retorted, swinging a chair around so that he could lean over the back of it, making faces at Cooper and Lila.

“I do not flirt, dhearthair,” she informed him tartly.

“Right,” Clint said, rolling his eyes.

Her glare was not amused. She opened her mouth to begin what was probably a scathing reply when Natasha covered her hand gently with her own. “He didn’t mean it like that, achara. He means being charming, not trying to entice people.”

Clint blinked. “Hell. I’m sorry, sis. I didn’t even think how that would – yeah, she’s right. I meant charming, because you can melt most resolves with a smile and a hug. I wasn’t talking about… your heartmate, or anything.” Then he looked at Natasha. “How in Hell did you know what she was thinking?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. “Was that question supposed to be aloud?”

“No, damn it, it wasn’t. Answer it anyway.”

Phil chuckled. Clint glared at him, but he didn’t stop. “Clint, no one would accuse you of being the most sensitive man in the world – and despite your impressive eyesight, you do seem to be blind to the subtleties of nonverbal communication, particularly the female variety.” He handed Lila to her uncle. “Stick with your strengths, and try not to put your foot in your mouth.”

Clint took his niece automatically, frowning. “Am I really that oblivious?” he asked.

The women exchanged glances, which Clint did not see – and Natasha sighed. “We’ll work on it,” she told him.

Laura put the finishing touches on a casserole and slid it into the oven before pouring more coffee in her mug and joining them at the dining table. “Look at it this way, Clint, you’re better at it than your brother,” she told him.

“House rule!” Catriona reminded him quickly when Clint’s mouth opened to retort. He subsided, shaking his head. Phil raised an eyebrow, and Natasha leaned over to explain.

“Sorry, Laura,” Clint murmured.

She smiled, a little sadly, at him. “I know.” She wished that her husband and his brother were on better terms. Clint was careful to plan his visits to the farm to intersect as rarely as possible with Barney, but couldn’t avoid him altogether. Time they spent in each other’s company was often tense and had the potential to turn into screaming matches, though they hadn’t had one of those since Cooper was born. She didn’t like that she’d had to forbid Clint from speaking ill of his brother in front of their children, but she didn’t want her kids to grow up seeing that kind of behavior between siblings.

“So, what is the plan for the afternoon?” Natasha asked Catriona.

“I believe I shall draw another masterpiece or two with Cooper here, and then I intend to spend some time with Great Mother. I have started learning another language, and I should like to continue it.” She smiled at Natasha. “Unless you would like to help me practice my Russian?”

Natasha returned the smile. “I’m sure She is a better teacher than I would be. I need to spend some time meditating as well, and then I thought we could show Phil the fight sequence we’ve been practicing,” she said to Clint. “The dance one.”

“Dance?” Phil asked, intrigued.

“You’ll like it,” Natasha promised, with a roguish smirk.

“We’ve got chores to do in the garden,” Laura told her son, who frowned. “Weeding and watering. I’ve got to harvest some of the vegetables today – they’re early.”

Catriona blushed. “I apologize, Laura, but that would be my fault. I may have had a bit of a word with the fauna, encouraging them to be particularly fruitful whilst you had so many guests.”

Laura blinked. “Well. You can help harvest then, can’t you?” she said logically.

“It would be my pleasure,” Catriona agreed. “It does a mind good, to have one’s fingers in the dirt.”

~ * ~


	10. Getting Dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will likely be the closest thing to smut I'll post with this story. It's short, so people can skip it if that's not what floats their rubber ducky.

While Catriona, Laura, and the children went into the garden, Clint led Natasha and Phil to a clear area of lawn that he and Natasha had been using as a practice ground. He grinned in anticipation and pulled his t-shirt off over his head.

“Whoa, Clint,” Phil stalled him with a hand up.

Clint paused. “You got a problem with my bare chest?”

“Not exactly.” Phil didn’t continue immediately, so Clint strode back over to where he was standing and nudged him in the side with his elbow. Natasha eyed them both from where she was stretching on the grass. “I doubt it escaped your notice that I’m a private person,” Phil admitted. “I’m not entirely comfortable with… this kind of… exhibitionism?”

“What exactly did you think we were planning to do?” Clint demanded.

Phil’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve seen you grapple with Natasha before. It was sexually charged then, I can’t imagine your bond has made that go away.”

{He’s shy,} Natasha’s mental voice whispered in Clint’s mind, tone amused. {This is adorable.} It was, and also spurred her libido. She wondered how carnal they would have to act before he was more aroused than embarrassed.

“No one is going to interrupt us,” Clint reassured him. “It’s actually more private than the house.”

Phil didn’t look encouraged by that. “We’re outdoors,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

“Speaking as someone sworn to the Earth Goddess, that really doesn’t bother me,” Natasha said, rising smoothly to her feet and slinking towards him. Her movements were more defined, more deliberate – she was already feeling the heady rush of arousal.

“Let’s show him our dance, Sunshine,” Clint urged, stepping towards her and offering his hand. Natasha took it with a slow smile.

What followed was both exercise and exposition; a series of blows and counterblows choreographed to work to their strengths while challenging their weaknesses, encouraging them to reach past normal human limits into the range of Her Gifts. Through their mind link, they moved almost as one – when Clint leaned forward, Natasha leaned away, the distance between them never closing and never widening. No blows landed unblocked – those that did connect, it was obvious that the impact was intentional. Phil watched, his mouth going dry, wondering if he’d ever be able to watch them practice again without flashing back to this moment and feeling a remnant of the delicious heat that now filled him.

Their movements sharpened, quickened, until he could barely keep track of strike and counterstrike. Just as he realized he was panting from the effort of holding himself away from them, they struck a final form and froze in place. Both were breathing hard, and Clint had sweat beading on his shoulder blades. Natasha leaned forward enough to close the distance between them, pressing her forehead to his chest, gazing down his body at the mute evidence of his enjoyment of their display.

Phil abandoned his nonchalant pose and stepped up to them, running a tentative hand down Clint’s back, feeling the sweat, wanting more than anything to lean over and taste him. Natasha turned towards him as he approached, her head still resting on Clint’s chest, her eyes dark with lust. “Come here, achroi ghra,” she purred to Phil, and offered him her hand. He took it, allowing himself to be pulled towards them, feeling the heat radiating off both of their bodies.

“Like what you see?” Clint asked as casually as he could manage. Where Phil had touched him tingled, the faint electricity of static shock, and made him hunger for more.

“Oh, yes,” Phil breathed. Were they really doing this? he thought to himself. He, who had up until this point never made love outside of a bed? Rarely even indulged in a kiss outside the confines of his apartment?

“Touch me,” Natasha demanded of them both. Clint raised his hands from his sides and slid them along her waist, snugging her up against him with his left arm. He reached for Phil with his right, turning his head to catch Phil’s lips in a suddenly urgent, almost frantic kiss.

Phil let himself be crushed up against Clint’s muscular body, feeling Natasha’s captivating curves mold themselves against him as well. When Clint’s lips touched his, he released what few inhibitions he’d managed to hang on to and soon found himself pressed against the warm grass, Clint’s mouth placing soft kisses down his neck to his collar. Natasha, lying on her side next to him, threw a leg over him and pressed into him, her body rocking sensuously against him, making Phil almost light-headed with desire. She too began to place kisses along his neck, and he didn’t think it could be any more erotic until she and Clint met above his left shoulder and paused in their exploration of his body to kiss each other with fervent abandon. “Oh, Jesus,” Phil moaned beneath them. 

Clint’s chuckle was deeper than usual, his own ardor thickening his voice. “You have to get more creative in your cursing when you pray to a Goddess,” he told Phil, dropping his head to Phil’s ear and breathing the words into it. “And trust me, She does not mind.”

Natasha slipped her hand up under Phil’s t-shirt. “Too many clothes,” she murmured. “Damn, I want to see you naked, treorai.” She set about working the shirt up his body, kissing and stroking the skin of his abdomen as it was revealed.

Somehow they worked both shirt and pants off of Phil, as he caressed and fondled them. Soon their clothing was discarded as well, and there was a joint sigh of pleasure when skin met skin. Phil didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused, and then Clint set about proving him wrong.

~ * ~


	11. Green Eyed

When Catriona and Laura returned to the farmhouse, children in tow, to prepare supper, they found Clint, Natasha, and Phil asleep in the living room. They appeared freshly showered and were dressed, but there was a new intimacy in their postures. Catriona smiled affectionately at them before encouraging Cooper upstairs to wash his hands. Laura merely shook her head, carrying Lila into the kitchen with her. The baby was settled into her swing and Laura was washing their harvest before Catriona and Cooper returned.

Cooper obediently pulled his stool up next to the kitchen sink and helped his mother scrub carrots clean. Laura was silent, and Catriona shot her a concerned glance. Laura evaded it.

Clint was the first to wake and join them, pouring himself a mug of coffee, joining Cooper at the kitchen counter. “Peeling taters, eh? Here, let me help.” He set aside his coffee and pulled another vegetable peeler out of the drawer. Cooper handed over a potato and Clint busied his hands, looking at his still-quiet sister-in-law. “You gonna tell me why you’re mad?” Clint asked Laura gently.

“Not mad,” she corrected. Catriona raised an eyebrow but decided this was time for ‘tall talk’ and invented an errand for herself and Cooper. Laura thanked her with a nod and watched her son lead the druid out of the kitchen. “A little confused.” He waited, but she didn’t elaborate.

“About Phil?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Laura rinsed the peeled potatoes and began slicing them into orderly sections, planning to boil and mash them. “You protested pretty loud when I suggested there was something between you and him, and the next thing I know you’re bringing him to the farm and scaring the livestock.” He raised his eyebrows. “You know what I mean. You weren’t exactly silent out there, any of you.”

“Ah.” Clint moved to the sink when she was finished, washing the peelers and setting them in the dish tray to dry. “Any. That’s what got you in a twist. Not who, but how many.”

Laura frowned. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly.

“Isn’t it weird?” she asked finally, when he made no move to fill the silence. That in itself told her this conversation was taking a turn; Clint silent was a new experience for her.

“What’s weird is that it isn’t weird,” Clint said with a half-smile she recognized as one of Natasha’s. “You forget, I’ve worked with them for a while now. Almost five years. I put to bed any trust issues with either of them a long time ago.”

Laura’s eyes flickered to him. “You ‘put to bed’ issues, really Clint? A little on the nose.”

He laughed. “You hang around Phil long enough, to start to sound like a bureaucrat.”

“You called him Coulson, before,” she pointed out.

“He wasn’t mine, before,” he retorted.

Laura’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.” She wanted to – at least be able to grasp the idea around the edges – but she couldn’t put aside the oddness of thinking of them as some sort of three-part couple. Or a couple plus one, she supposed. But who was the plus?

Clint scrubbed his hands through his hair, sighing. “I’m trying to explain it, but it’s like trying to describe the color blue. It just is.”

“It’s more like trying to describe how the color blue smells,” Phil corrected mildly from the doorway. Clint looked up, a smile forming unconsciously. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but he’s moments away from hair pulling.” Phil stepped to Clint and smoothed down the hair mussed by his frustration.

“Blue doesn’t smell,” Laura repeated, confused.

“Not to you,” Phil said with a smile that was intended to soothe, but not to make her feel as though he were laughing at her. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t a creature somewhere on this planet who can smell it. Not having the senses to interpret data doesn’t mean the data isn’t there.”

“She’s not an agent, Phil,” Clint reminded him.

“I know.” Phil’s smile at Clint was tender, a softness in his eyes that Clint wanted to fall into. For a moment, no one spoke.

Laura cleared her throat, suddenly missing her husband. She busied herself with dinner preparations, not making eye contact with either man. Clint stifled a sigh and moved to set the table. He didn’t want to be at odds with Laura, but he didn’t know how to explain this to her any other way than he already had.

Natasha, Catriona, and Cooper joined them shortly thereafter and dinner was served to a mostly quiet table. Catriona’s eyes bounced between them, wanting to say something – anything – that would help, but unsure what to do. She settled for taking on supper cleanup – shooing everyone but Cooper out of the kitchen. He was deputized as Lieutenant of the Kitchen Patrol, much to his delight and the adults’ amusement.

“Please don’t just escape with the baby,” Natasha asked Laura when they reached the hallway and she moved to go upstairs. “I don’t want this to fester.”

Reluctantly, Laura carried her daughter into the living room and sat down in her favorite armchair. The sound of Cooper and Catriona cleaning was comforting, but she still felt awkward, unsure how to act towards the three now curling up on the couch together.

They weren’t being excessively demonstrative, she realized. It was the easy sprawl of people who were entirely comfortable with each other and in their surroundings. In spite, she realized, her own discomfort.

Laura let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry,” she said to them. “It’s a little tough to wrap my head around. A week ago I had a bachelor brother-in-law, and now he’s got a boyfriend… and a girlfriend.”

“Achroi ghra,” Natasha corrected firmly, at the same time that Clint supplied, “Partners.”

“Whatever you want to call it,” Laura waved away the semantics. “At least I know Natasha! I only know Coulson – Phil, sorry – from the stories you’ve told, and now he’s sitting on my couch… looking at you like you’re dessert.”

“I was lunch, thank you,” Clint said loftily. Natasha tried to turn a chuckle into a cough and failed.

Phil shook his head, smiling at both of them affectionately. “You’re not helping,” he told Clint.

“You’re the handler, you handle it!” Clint shot back, and Natasha chuckled again.

“I’m trying,” was his unruffled reply. “Laura, I know how this must look – I assure you that while my involvement with Clint and Natasha appears sudden, it is not impulsive or unsolicited.”

“You always talk like you’re giving a deposition?” Laura asked.

With a blink, Phil reviewed what he’d said, and started to laugh. “I suppose I do.” The laughter was unexpected, and both Clint and Natasha grinned at him. “Hazard of the job, I suppose. Very well, let me try some plain talk.” He shifted in his seat, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I am very deeply in love with Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, and that is not new.” He sat back, shrugging one shoulder. “Saying it aloud? That’s new.”

Natasha reached over and tangled her fingers in his, unable to speak at his blunt confession. She wasn’t used to ‘love’ and her name being used together, but it was difficult to argue with his sincerity. Clint slid his hand into his on her other side, squeezing. For a moment, she desperately wished that Phil were part of their unspoken communication, because she wanted to tell him how she felt but didn’t think she could get the words out.

“We love you, too,” Clint murmured. Phil’s eyes darted to him, then to her, and she saw his lips curve in understanding. He didn’t hold it against her, that she couldn’t say it – neither did Clint. She’d managed to speak the words only once, when she thought Clint was going to die in front of her, and though it was getting easier for her to express it mentally, she knew it was by no means ‘easy.’ She thanked the Goddess quietly for both these men, and had to swallow against a throat tight with emotions she didn’t like to admit she had.

“Why?” Laura asked.

“Why what?” Phil replied, eyebrow lifted. “Why do I love them? Or why do I love them both?”

“Yes.” Laura answered, looking at him intently. “I could get one of them – maybe – and I can see the two of them together, but why both? Did you wake up yesterday and decide you wanted to try both flavors?”

Clint opened his mouth to retort, but Phil silenced him with a shake of his head and. “I’ve always enjoyed both flavors, as you say,” he said with a small smile. “I don’t know when I first fell for either of them, but I can tell you that it wasn’t a watershed moment – there was no key and a kite. I just… stopped wanting anyone else.” His gaze turned inward, thoughtful. “For the longest time, I wouldn’t even let myself think it. It’s dangerous, to be emotionally involved with an agent – it can be deadly, if one or both of you is in the field. The stronger my feelings got, the more urgent it was to prevent that from happening. I would do anything in my power to keep them safe,” he said, lowering his eyes to where Natasha’s hand held his. “Up to and including walking away.”

“Like hell,” Natasha snapped instantly.

“If it was your life or my absence?” Phil smiled sadly. “No, love. I would rather sacrifice myself and know you were safe with Clint than to soldier on without you.” The way he said that, it was clear he’d given the matter some thought – and equally clear that ‘soldier on’ was not a term he used in his everyday speech. She tilted her head, looking inquisitively at him, but he didn’t elucidate.

Laura had stayed silent during this exchange, forced to confront an unpleasant truth: it wasn’t distaste for their lifestyle that made her prickly as a one of Baloo’s pawpaws. With a sinking certainty, she knew that her husband would never say such a thing. To see such unreserved devotion, knowing that it was more than what she had, bit at her until she lashed out.

She never expected to be jealous.

~ * ~


	12. Chapter 12

The mood was subdued as the triad readied for bed. Phil wasn’t certain if Natasha and Clint were communicating telepathically, although he didn’t think so. When it was just the three of them, Natasha made a conscious effort to keep the conversation verbal – Clint followed her lead reflexively.

“Do you want to leave?” Phil asked Clint quietly.

Clint shook his head, sinking on to the bed and sighing. “I guess I can’t blame Laura for her reaction – I have thrown an awful lot at her in the last week.” Natasha slipped next to him, tucking her head into the hollow of his neck. She didn’t speak, but laid a soft kiss on his shoulder.

“It’s been interesting,” Phil drawled in response, and his dry tone made Clint chuckle. “Hard to imagine that two nights ago I was alone in my apartment, trying not to think about either of you.”

Natasha quirked her lips at him, her eyes full of mischief. “Was it working?”

“Not in the slightest,” their handler answered immediately. “This is better.” He joined them on the bed, laying down on the opposite side of Clint, an almost mirror image of Natasha’s position. “I’m not looking forward to going back to an empty bed,” he admitted. Clint tensed beneath them, and Phil cursed himself silently.

Natasha, too, seemed taken aback. She hadn’t given much thought to their return to headquarters, but it was obvious that they would not be able to share quarters as they were doing now – not even just her and Clint, never mind Phil.

“Easy, love,” Phil murmured, and reached his hand over Clint’s chest to stroke at her hair, cup her cheek. “We’ll work something out. It won’t be the same, I know, but I’m too selfish to give you both up completely when we get back.”

Natasha allowed herself to be comforted, but Clint frowned. His hands were stroking both Phil and Natasha’s backs automatically. “What happens if we get caught?” He knew what the regulations said – immediate reassignment, disciplinary action, possible termination – but he wasn’t sure how much of that was likely.

“It depends on who catches us… and which of us is caught,” Phil answered, turning the problem over in his mind. “Were it the two of you… probably a mild reprimand, maybe a few months of extremely boring missions. I think it unlikely that Director Fury would split you up. If it were me, and one or both of you…” Phil trailed off, running scenarios mentally. “Nothing good. You’d be assigned a new handler, I’d probably be bumped down in rank – maybe even fired. I’d resign before Fury could fire me, though.”

“If you resign, so do I,” Natasha told him firmly.

“Me too,” Clint added quietly.

Phil shook his head, their loyalty still surprising to him. “I might be able to use that as a bargaining chip, if it comes to that,” he mused. “Fire one, lose all three of us. I’d rather it didn’t…”

Natasha pressed more firmly into Clint and laced the fingers of one hand into Phil’s, over Clint’s stomach. She didn’t utter words, but the nearly desperate hold she had on her achroi ghra was eloquent enough.

~ * ~

While Laura settled Cooper and Lila into bed, Catriona sat on the floor in front of the couch in the living room, her knees pulled up under her chin. Her face was tilted toward the window, but her eyes were unseeing, focused inward.

She’d thought things different here and now, she realized. Laura’s reaction to the triad shook her. If Laura couldn’t accept what was so obviously to Catriona a solid love match, who could? She’d known that the societal norms regarding relationships had evolved – how could they not, in two millennia? – and she’d thought the time past that judgement fell on those whose loves were out of the ordinary. What of her own heart mate? Would she, too, face disapproval and scorn once finally united with her achroi ghra?

Catriona was startled to feel Laura’s hand gently brush tears off her cheeks. She hadn’t heard Laura return – she’d been too sunk in her own thoughts. She pulled back, shaking her copper curls forward to hide her reddened eyes.

“Sorry,” Laura apologized softly. “I thought you’d heard me.” She lowered herself to the floor next to Catriona, her own gaze troubled. Catriona didn’t respond but wiped the remainder of tears from her face, trying for composure. “I know why Clint is upset with me…” Laura began, reaching to tuck Catriona’s hair behind her ear. The druid evaded her touch. She sighed. “I’m just not sure how I managed to upset you enough that you won’t let me comfort you.”

“When I find my achroi ghra – my love – I have no way of knowing if that love will be… acceptable. I thought…” Catriona trailed off, staring fixedly at her hands. “I thought that this time and place celebrated all love. It is… a difficult truth, to see that I was wrong.”

Laura sighed again. “I wish I could say that you were right. I wish that all love was celebrated. And I wish that I wasn’t what changed your mind.”

“How can you not be happy for them?” Catriona asked, her voice very soft.

Trusting her maternal instinct, Laura pulled Catriona to her, tucking the smaller woman under her arm as she would Cooper. “I am happy for them. I want Clint to be happy, and I can see that Phil and Natasha are good for him. But it’s an adjustment, and it’ll take a while for it to feel normal to me. That isn’t what’s been driving my bad behavior, though,” Laura admitted. “I’m sure that’s what it looks like, and that’s what I thought it was until about an hour ago.”

Catriona let herself be cuddled, drawing comfort from Laura. “What is, then?”

“Jealousy,” Laura admitted.

“Of what?” Catriona asked, confused.

“I have a good marriage,” Laura told her. “My husband is a good man, a good father, a solid provider. But he and I do not have the kind of love that I see in Clint’s eyes. Barney might put himself in the line of fire to protect me, but it would be out of duty – duty as a husband and a father, and not because he couldn’t face living without me.” Laura shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I ever really thought of the difference before today.”

They sat in silence, then, and neither was entirely certain who was providing comfort and who was receiving it.

~ * ~


	13. Chapter 13

Morning of the seventh day of their leave found Natasha and Clint meditating on the grass in front of the Barton farmhouse, Catriona not far from them. Phil was playing catch with Cooper, doing his best to entertain the child so that he didn’t distract his Aunties and Uncle. Laura had been gracious and accommodating over breakfast – teasing Clint gently, passing Phil the maple syrup before he’d asked for it, spooning extra strawberries onto Natasha’s plate – and they were all endeavoring to remain relaxed.

Clint was the first to break from meditation, rising and rubbing both hands through his hair. “I wonder if this is how ants feel, when they look at humans,” Clint murmured to Phil, kissing his cheek affectionately. “Insignificant. And small.”

Phil smiled, handing Clint the baseball mitt he’d been wearing. “Perhaps, but I don’t think the Goddess does so intentionally.”

Clint grinned and carefully lobbed a ball at his nephew. He enjoyed playing catch – he focused intentionally on pitches that would be easy for the boy to catch but which challenged his own perfectionism. Cooper didn’t have the same marksmanship – which meant Clint sometimes got quite a workout chasing down the ball as well. “I don’t think She does,” Clint agreed. “But it’s a good way to stay humble, I guess.”

“If that’s all it takes…” Phil began with solemnity, but abandoned his dignity when Clint abandoned his mitt to pin Phil to the grass and tickle his sides.

Cooper joined the battle with a whoop, and worked Phil’s shoes off until he could attack the agent’s bare feet. Natasha and Catriona, alerted by the noise, joined in as well – Catriona making for Clint’s midriff while Natasha focused on Cooper’s armpits. The resulting cacophony of laughter and shrieks summoned Laura and Lila. After a moment’s debate, Laura pulled out her cell phone and started taking pictures and video of the tickle war occurring on her front lawn, her own laughter bubbling out as well.

By the time the five participants had called a truce, all of them were heaving for breath and nursing stitches in their side from prolonged giggling. Laura threw herself down onto the ground, Lila sprawled on her chest, and grinned at her guests. “I needed that,” she admitted.

“As did I,” Phil agreed, reaching across Natasha’s legs to offer his hand to the baby. Lila latched on to his index finger, grinning madly as she tried to shove his hand into her mouth.

“Never seen you laugh like that,” Clint told Natasha.

“I don’t think I have,” she answered, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. Her eyes met Laura’s, and her smile wavered a fraction before she spoke again. “Thanks.”

Laura shrugged, careful not to disturb Lila’s preoccupation with Phil’s finger. “I owe you an apology,” she began.

Phil shook his head. “You don’t,” he told her. Natasha laid a hand on his arm, and he desisted.

“I do,” Laura said with a sigh. “I did some thinking last night… and if it had been Lila or Cooper who acted like I was, I’d have tanned their hides.”

“I didn’t do anything bad!” Cooper protested, scooting farther away from his mother.

“I know, love,” she reassured him. “This time it was me that did wrong. I have been rude to your aunties and uncles, and so I’m apologizing. You haven’t been rude, Coop – this is just me.”

“But if I’d been rude, I’d hafta apologize too?” Cooper asked.

“Yes,” Laura agreed. “Which is what made me realize I owed you one, Nat, Clint, Phil. And you, Catriona, because I’ve managed to put you in the middle of it without meaning to.”

Catriona shook her head, reaching for Cooper and cuddling him close. “You need not apologize to me,” she said quietly.

Cooper didn’t struggle against her hug, even though he kind of wanted to go play more – she sounded sad. He already loved his Auntie Ona, and he didn’t like that she sounded sad. Whatever his Mom had said to her, it must have been bad, he decided. Auntie Ona might say that she didn’t need an apology, but Cooper was pretty sure she deserved one anyway. He squirmed upwards until he could kiss her cheek, then rested his head on her shoulder where she naturally cradled it.

Laura watched her son out of the corner of her eye, touched that he was making an effort to comfort the druid. “I think I do,” Laura disagreed lightly. “I can’t promise I won’t do or say stupid things again but… I’m going to try harder,” she promised.

Clint reached for her hand and squeezed it. “That’s all I can ask, sis,” he said. His voice was tighter than usual, his eyes overbright.

They laid there, five adults and two children, basking in the warmth of both sun and family, and would have lain there indefinitely were it not for the incongruous sound of tires on the gravel driveway.

Laura sat up, pulling Lila away from Phil, and her eyes went wide. Cooper, he eyes following hers, shot up out of Catriona’s arms and headed towards the sedan now parked beside Lola. “Daddy!”

Clint’s face lost all trace of humor – indeed, nearly all trace of personality. He rose to his feet, balancing carefully on his toes, all his attention focused on the approach of his brother.

Barney had swung Cooper up onto his shoulders, which delighted the boy, and was walking towards them with a scowl on his face. The remaining adults rose as well, Laura stepping forward to greet her husband with an affectionate kiss. “You’re early! I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of weeks!”

“That why you’re entertaining a crowd?” Barney asked, eyebrow lifted in the direction of her guests.

“Came out to see my favorite niece and nephew,” Clint told him evenly. “Laura was good enough to put us up.”

“And who is ‘us’?” Barney asked. He swung Cooper down, ruffling the boy’s hair. Though his tone towards his brother was bordering on contempt, his touch towards his son was gently affectionate.

“Agent Phil Coulson,” Phil introduced himself, offering his hand. His tone was back to his official one – polite, restrained, utterly calm. “This is Agent Natasha Romanoff and our associate, Lady Catriona O’Clare.”

“This is my brother, Special Agent Barney Barton of the FBI,” Clint supplied as Barney shook Phil’s hand stiffly. He made no move to shake either woman’s hand, just gazed at them in speculation.

“Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Catriona said finally, when it seemed the silence would be prolonged. Barney’s eyebrows rose even farther at her Irish brogue. “You’ve a fine laddie there in young Cooper, and that wee lass of yours is as fair as a rose,” she continued, smiling at the children in turn.

“Daddy, Auntie Ona’s been drawing with me!” Cooper told him, bouncing on his heels in excitement. “And she tells the bestest stories!”

His son’s enthusiasm seemed to temporarily thaw Barney, who managed a small smile towards Catriona. “Does she, now? Why don’t we go inside, and you can show me some of your drawings.”

Catriona walked with them, chattering with Cooper and flashing the occasional smile at Barney, until the front door closed behind them.

Clint sagged where he stood and Phil put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “I’m sorry,” Laura said, and there was genuine distress on her face. “I didn’t know he’d be home yet. He’s supposed to be on an op still.” Phil pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and wandered a few feet away. “What is he doing?”

“What he does best,” Clint answered. “Verifying facts.” He offered his hand to Natasha, who took it and stepped closer to him. {I don’t know if I can do this, Sunshine,} Clint admitted to her privately. {Not right now, not with us so new and…} She saw a flood of images from his childhood, full of petty cruelty and careless neglect.

{If we need to leave, then we go,} Natasha reassured him. She tugged on his hand until she had snugged it around her waist, leaning against him. {Who knows, maybe Catriona’s magic hugs work on asshole brothers too.}

Laura rubbed her face. “You’re doing the silent talking thing again, aren’t you?” she asked wearily. “Do I want to know?”

“Reassuring my achroi ghra – my partner – that I’m with him for the long haul,” Natasha said with a smile.

“With him ‘til the end of the line,” Phil corrected, rejoining them as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. It too sounded like a rote phrase, and not one of his own. “Story checks out. FBI got an anonymous tip, bust was wrapped up yesterday morning. I’d say he headed here right after the debrief.”

Laura frowned at him. “You checked up on him?”

“Part of my job, ma’am,” he told her, then shook his head. “Sorry, Laura. Fell back in Agent mode.”

Clint, who hadn’t moved from where he stood, offered Phil his free hand. The senior agent took it, automatically placing himself between Clint and the farmhouse, presumably to shield them from view. Phil gently brushed a few strands of hair back from Clint’s forehead. Natasha realized abruptly it was one of the few times she’d seen him initiate physical affection in front of another. “Laura, I know it’s rude –” Clint began, swallowing hard, “but do you suppose you could give us a few minutes alone?”

“It’s not rude,” Laura reassured him. She kissed his cheek lightly and headed into the house, Lila perched on her hip.

“Talk to me, Clint,” Phil prompted in a low voice.

“I don’t know what to do,” Clint said finally. “Barney and I don’t get along at the best of times and – with what he’s likely to say about you, or Natasha, or both… I don’t know.”

“I don’t care what he says about me,” Natasha assured him. “I highly doubt he can say anything I haven’t heard before.”

“I care,” Clint told her. He tightened the arm around her waist.

“He loves his children,” Phil remarked. “For their sake, he may be civil.”

Clint snorted in disbelief. “It’s never stopped him before.”

“You’ve never had a two-thousand-year-old druid with a disarming smile on your side before, either,” Natasha reminded him. “If anyone can get good behavior out of Barney, it’s our deirfiur.”

~ * ~


	14. Chapter 14

“So, how’d a pretty thing like you get mixed up with my brother?” Barney asked Catriona as they entered the farmhouse kitchen.

Catriona did not roll her eyes, though it was a near thing. “I met Natasha first, and our friendship led me to Clint and Phil. They’ve been quite lovely company, and I must confess I’m thoroughly charmed by your wife and children.” She smiled up at Barney, ruffling Cooper’s hair affectionately.

“They seem to feel much the same about you,” Barney remarked, then leaned over the table to listen to Cooper point out details on his various art creations. Catriona took a seat next to him at the table, gamely repeating bits of tales at Cooper’s requests, managing to make Barney chuckle once. She considered that a small victory.

Laura entered, Lila on her hip, and joined them at the table. At Catriona’s questioning look, she shook her head minutely. Lila held out her arms across the table, and Laura hastily handed her to Barney before the child could overbalance herself.

It wasn’t Barney she wanted, however. Now within reach of her target, Lila wrapped her tiny fists in Catriona’s coppery curls, babbling in delight at the druid. “Charming lass,” Catriona crooned, and used the end of one curl to tickle Lila’s nose. She glanced up, a smile on her face at the child’s antics, and saw the glare that Barney was leveling at her. Lila, unaware of her father’s change of demeanor, leaned forward more to reach Catriona better, and the druid was forced to reach for her lest she fall. Cradling a now happily occupied baby, Catriona studied Barney’s face carefully – grateful that the Goddess had taught her ways to do so without being obvious – and wasn’t sure she liked what she saw.

“I’m glad you’re home safe,” Laura told her husband, touching his arm. His expression eased when he smiled at her, covering her hand with his own.

“So am I,” he told her quietly.

The genuine tenderness in their brief exchange relieved some of Catriona’s concern, but she resolved to keep an eye on this elder Barton brother. For all he resembled Clint in appearance, he did not appear to have the same core of inherent loyalty. Lila tugged particularly hard on a curl, returning Catriona’s attention to the girl, and she careful unlatched the small fingers from her hair. “Gentle, lass. I’d thank you not to pull – tisn’t my favorite sensation.”

“Isn’t it?” Barney drawled, one eyebrow lifting suggestively. Laura elbowed him, and he raised his hands in the universal gesture of ‘no offense’ and shrugged, a practiced smile belying any intended slur.

They had chatted a few more minutes when Phil entered the kitchen, alone. Though he was still dressed casually, his manner was closer to how he held himself in his office – cool, efficient, and confident. He joined them at the table as it fell silent.

Catriona turned to him, wishing she could speak to him as she did to Gaia, hoping her understood the question in her eyes. He slid a comforting hand across her shoulders as he settled into the chair. “I apologize for our presence here unannounced,” Phil told Barney politely. “Had I been alerted that the Bergdorf operation had wrapped up early, I’d have made sure you received word of our presence here, before you found us on your front lawn.”

Barney’s eyebrows shot up. He’d not named the operation he’d been away for – he never discussed them with Laura or Clint. “How did you—”

“I am, among other things, an experienced operative handler and tactical operations coordinator,” Phil explained smoothly. “Your op, while classified, was well within my clearance.”

“Yeah?” Barney’s voice held a hint of challenge, which Phil ignored.

“Agents Barton and Romanoff were granted leave following the completion of their own op – one which, I’m afraid, is above your clearance – and elected to spend it in the uncomplicated company of friends and family. If our remaining leave – three nights – will cause undue burden on your family, we will of course vacate the premises.” Phil folded his hands casually in his lap, twisting slightly so that his leg was against Catriona’s, hoping to reassure her.

“Leave, huh? Friends and family?” Barney’s eyes narrowed. “Which are you?”

“Clint is my partner, as is Natasha, and as such their physical and mental wellbeing are of paramount importance,” Phil answered. There was a new sharpness to his tone, and Catriona could see that his relaxed posture was fabricated.

“Partner?” Barney repeated. He smirked. “Always knew he was a—”

“If you value your life, you will not finish that sentence,” Natasha breathed into his ear. He hadn’t seen her approach – and from the startled expression on Laura’s face, she hadn’t either. Catriona and Phil were unfazed by the abrupt appearance.

In one hand, out of sight of Cooper, Natasha had a small but wickedly sharp blade. She touched it gently to Barney’s ear, watching as he flinched away, before she spoke again. “Be polite,” she chided him. Her eyes flickered to Clint, who was now standing in the kitchen doorway. “You wouldn’t want to set a bad example for your children.” She stowed the knife away – even watching closely Catriona wasn’t certain where she’d put it – before easing into the chair on Phil’s other side, slouching in a deliberately provocative manner.

Cooper’s eyes were wide, and bounced between his father and his uncle. Before the boy’s confusion could blossom into panic, Clint entered the room fully and sat down with the boy, ruffling his hair. “It’s okay, Coop,” Clint soothed. “Auntie Nat and Uncle Phil just want to make sure that your dad and I don’t argue.”

“Do they hafta go, Daddy?” Cooper asked his father anxiously.

Pinned between the imploring look on his son’s face, his daughter’s attachment to a redheaded druid, and his wife’s silent plea, Barney shook his head. “No, Coop, they don’t have to leave. I’m sure your uncle and I can get along for a few days.”

Catriona released the breath she’d been holding, her eyes closing briefly. She didn’t want to see this haven of family scarred by disagreement. She’d allowed herself to be comfortable here, and she wanted it to remain a sanctuary – safe, and loved.

“If we’re staying – yes, Cooper, we’re staying – you should probably call them Phil and Natasha,” Clint said to his brother. “And I’m sorry about Phil’s bureaucrat showing.” Clint shot Phil a falsely chastising look. “He’s been a suit long enough that he starts to sound like a rulebook sometimes.”

Barney accepted the verbal olive branch and chuckled. “Know a few of those myself, though you’d give even the Feebies a run for their money. Put you in a black suit, add a pair of aviator sunglasses, and you’d be Central Casting’s stereotypical Man in Black.”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh at that, picturing Phil’s workday attire. If the man owned a suit that wasn’t black, he’d never worn it at SHIELD. Phil tilted an amused smile her way and shook his head at Barney. “They aren’t aviators,” he admitted. “They’ve got ‘raptor’ in the model name, and your brother thought they were appropriate for Hawkeye’s handler.”

This time Barney’s laughter was startled and genuine. Laura allowed herself a grin as well.

Perhaps, Clint reflected, Natasha was right after all. If he and Barney could sit at the kitchen table and laugh together in Catriona’s presence… maybe there was hope.

~ * ~


	15. Chapter 15

Awkwardness was kept at bay for the remainder of the day, usually dispersed with a guileless comment from Catriona. Supper was chaotic and delicious, and even the clean-up chores were shared out amicably.

When it came time to retire to bed, though, Phil paused at the bottom of the stairs. Laura and Barney had already gone up, to check on the children and settle themselves in. Clint and Natasha were several steps up before they realized Phil was not following them.

“What’s wrong, treorai?” Natasha asked.

“Perhaps I should… if may be better if I stay down here, with Catriona,” Phil answered finally, after a pained silence. 

{Damn. Shy Phil is back.} Natasha’s voice was resigned, but the hand she extended to Phil was tender.

“I am not going to have half of my heart sleep downstairs on the couch for the last three nights of the first vacation he has taken in ten years just because my brother is a narrow-minded asshole.” The words were spoken fast, growled out as Clint fought for control of his emotions. The hand he reached out to Phil wasn’t gentle – he fisted his hand in Phil’s t-shirt and pulled, causing Phil to stumble towards him. He used his other hand to draw Natasha close as well, bringing his lips down to Phil’s in a fierce and possessive kiss. When it broke, he turned his head just enough to deliver the same treatment to Natasha.

“Half your heart?” Phil murmured, letting his head fall forward onto Clint. The archer was one stair above him, letting Phil rest his head against that broad, muscular chest. “How poetic.”

“Don’t make light of this, Phil, please,” Clint whispered. He swallowed, his throat tight. {I can’t go back to not having him, Sunshine,} Clint told Natasha silently. {How am I supposed to keep myself professional around him on the job when I can’t even face him sleeping twenty feet away?}

“I’m not trying to,” Phil answered calmly, running one hand up Clint’s back, smoothing his hair. 

{We’ll manage,} Natasha assured him. She too held him closer, hoping her physical presence could soothe him more than her words. “Let’s go to bed, dearlings,” she said aloud, kissing each of them gently. “If your brother makes an issue of it, we’ll sic Catriona on him. Clint’s right, Phil. We can’t let him get between us.” Then she smiled at Phil, dropping her voice to a suggestive purr. “There’s only one Barton I want between us.”

~ * ~

Catriona was sipping her third cup of tea by sunrise. She sat at the kitchen table, gazing across farmland and foliage, letting the natural serenity of the place calm her. She didn’t feel calm, not her usual equanimity. She knew why, too. For the first time in several decades, she’d allowed herself to care for individual people. Looking back, she was fairly certain that Margaret Carter was the last woman she’d called friend – and she had not stayed in contact with Maggie May. Once the war was over and Maggie – Peggy, she corrected herself – was no longer an active Warrior of Gaia, Catriona had let the friendship lapse. She was still fond of the woman, but it would not be an emotional blow to hear that Peggy had passed on.

That was no longer true of her current Warriors, their treorai, and this delightful family. Even Barney, with his abrasive manner… losing any of them would hurt. She rubbed a hand over her chest, feeling a physical ache at the idea of burying Natasha or Clint. Panic threatened to choke her when she placed the children in that metaphorical coffin. 

With a shaking hand, she shoved her tea mug back onto the table, standing to pace in front of the windows.

“Catriona?” The quiet query startled her, and she whirled to face Phil. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He crossed the floor to her, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong? You’re trembling.” He folded her into a loose hug, not wanting to make her feel trapped, but needing to offer comfort somehow.

“I am fine,” Catriona murmured. She pressed her forehead against him, grateful for his presence even though it brought her dependence on them ever more forward in her thoughts.

“You can be honest with me,” he coaxed. His arms shifted slightly and his voice softened. “I know you’re not fine. I’m asking like I’d ask my sisters. Like I’d ask my nieces. Tell me.”

“Do you use this technique in interrogation?” Catriona asked, not raising her head from his chest. It rumbled under her with his chuckle.

“Not for SHIELD. I reserve this particular torture for female relatives,” he told her, cupping her head close to him, running a soothing hand down her arm. 

“I am not a relative,” she reminded him.

“You are,” Phil told her firmly. “Family isn’t about blood relation – or at least, not entirely.”

He had expected his declaration to comfort her – for some positive sign that she was not as morose as she had been when he stepped into the room. What he got instead was a sudden overflowing of tears as Catriona threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, sobbing so strongly that he was afraid she was going to lose consciousness from lack of oxygen.

Helplessly, he held her close, offering what little comfort he could. He murmured in her ear, rocking her gently and soothing her hair as he would a frightened or wounded child. 

Phil wasn’t certain how long she cried, though the dawn light had brightened considerably by the time she pulled just far enough away to wipe at her face. He dabbed gently at her cheeks with the end of his sleeve but didn’t release her. He could feel a fine trembling still running through her, sign that though this bout of weeping was over, she was still distressed.

Catriona let out a long sigh and met his eyes at last. His gray-blue gaze held concern and care. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, little one,” he assured her. “You aren’t the first to cry on my shoulder, and you won’t be the last.” Phil smiled down at her, cupping her face in one hand and smoothing his thumb across her cheek. 

“I’m not that little,” she protested without much heat.

“You’re a petite pretty pixie,” Phil told her solemnly. “If you’re taller than four foot six inches, I’d be astounded. Don’t change the subject.”

She sighed, acknowledging both her height (or lack thereof) and his redirect of the conversation. “I realized, in the wee hours of the morn, that I have not set foot in my cottage for more than a week. I have not spent this amount of time out in the world in… decades. It has been longer yet since I spent that time entirely in the company of others – it may well have been centuries since I spent time in the presence of people for whom I care deeply.” She closed her eyes, pressing her head into Phil’s shoulder again.

“And it scares you, to see how much you care, and know that there will be pain in the future,” Phil continued for her, his voice low. “Unable to walk away, even to spare them future pain. Too starved for love to remain aloof.”

Catriona’s eyes widened. “You fear as well, treorai?” she asked.

“I do,” he told her, hugging her a little more firmly. “I think there is always fear, where there is love. I could not help loving Clint and Natasha – and I worried about them, and for them, long before there was anything but professionalism between us. At least if I act on my feelings, I’ll have good memories to cling to if something happens.”

She nodded, straightening up and patting her hair, slowly returning to her usual calm. “Thank you,” she told him, a small smile lighting her face.

“There’s something else to keep in mind, little one,” Phil told her as he moved across the room to the coffee pot. “If you keep yourself closed off, you won’t find your heartmate.” Startled, she turned to face him fully. “Natasha and Clint have been partners in the field for years. I’ve known them that long as well. You’ve made no mention of achroi ghra being love at first sight. It seems logical that your heartmate, whoever he will be, will be your friend before he is your love.”

“That is…” Catriona sat down abruptly at the kitchen table, retrieving her now-cold cup of tea. “That is quite true,” she finished, still stunned. “I must thank you again, treorai.”

“Anytime,” Phil replied with a smile, and began rummaging in the refrigerator for the makings of breakfast.

~ * ~


	16. Chapter 16

{Are you ever planning on coming out of that room?} Natasha asked Clint silently. She was sitting on the front porch swing with a cup of tea, her feet comfortably elevated on Phil’s lap, and feeling languorous. 

{The easiest way not to fight with Barney is not to get within his sight. So, no. I was kind of planning on staying here.} He tried to sound petulant, but Natasha knew him far better than to accept the surface appearance. Sometime during the night the fiercely defiant lover had melted away, leaving an anxious younger brother in his place.

{He’s been pretty decent,} Natasha told him. Phil reached down and stroked her ankle gently.

“Talking to Clint?” he asked. She nodded. “Tell him I love his nephew, but I’d rather spend the time with him.”

Dutifully Natasha repeated Phil’s remark to Clint, who was silent for a long moment. Then she heard the mental equivalent of a sigh. {I’ll be right down.}

True to his word, the archer appeared in the doorway, looking uncertain. Natasha solved the seating shortage on the swing by twisting around and sliding into Phil’s lap, careful not to disturb his book or her teacup. His eyes were amused, though he didn’t laugh. Clint sat down in her vacated spot, pulling his feet up and tucking them against Phil’s thigh. He felt… small.

Phil moved his book to the other hand so that he could put a comforting palm on Clint’s bare feet. “Thank you,” he told the other man quietly.

“For what?”

He even sounded younger, Phil reflected. “For coming down.” He squeezed an ankle, firm but affectionate. “I appreciate you wanting to avoid conflict, but I’d rather you do it by my side.”

Clint blinked hard, looking away. {Great Good Goddess, I love that man.} 

Natasha wasn’t certain she was meant to hear that, but she responded anyway. {Tell him that, dearling.}

“I love you,” Clint said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Both of you. So much.” He tried to continue, but the words wouldn’t come.

Phil’s hand squeezed his ankle again, then reached for Clint’s hands. “I know. We know,” he corrected, smiling softly at Natasha. “Tell me what I can do, Clint.”

Clint wrapped both of his hands around Phil’s. Natasha squirmed until she could put her feet in Clint’s lap, connecting all three of them. “I don’t know,” Clint said with a sigh. “I don’t like the way I feel around him, and it pisses me off.”

Phil chuckled softly, rubbing his thumb across Clint’s knuckles. “Nobody can piss us off faster than family,” he said with a small smile. “If that isn’t one of the laws of the universe, it should be. My middle sister can twist me into knots with about two sentences, and that’s without bringing her insufferable husband into the conversation.”

“I thought you got along with all of your family,” Natasha said in surprise.

“Oh, I manage,” Phil replied drily. “Just because she twists doesn’t mean I let her see it. I love her, even when she’s being a brat. And her boys…” Phil’s smile was fond and wistful. “I’ll put up with a fair amount, to be called Uncle Phil.”

“I’d like to meet them.” Clint looked surprised to hear himself speak. “I mean, if you want us to. I just…”

“I’d like that, too,” Phil agreed, his thumb soothing again. “I have no idea when we’ll all manage time off together again, though.” Natasha shot him an irritated look. “Not talking about it doesn’t make it go away, love,” he told her. He set the book down in her lap so that he could use that hand to pull her closer. “We need to have a conversation, about how this is going to work when we go back to SHIELD.”

“I’m not giving you up,” Clint said stubbornly. Natasha echoed the sentiment fervently.

“I said how it IS going to work, not if or will it,” Phil answered, his voice still unruffled. “I’m not giving either of you up, either. But we’ll have to be… creative.”

There was a mischievous glint in the archer’s eyes now, and he leaned closer to his partners. “I can get behind creative.”

“I rather thought you could,” Phil told him.

“We’ll need a safe house,” Natasha mused. “Or several, that we can rotate through. Somewhere innocuous. And you’ll need some sort of story, treorai. You’ve got to have a reason for suddenly not living at your desk.”

“I thought I’d go with a partial truth, and let people think I’ve found a romantic interest,” Phil told her. “No one expects me to talk about my social life.”

Natasha was surprised at the visceral wash of jealousy through her at the idea of SHIELD agents gossiping about Phil’s love life. Clint blinked at her, obviously having felt part of it. She shook her head. “I might kill someone, the first time they ask me if I know who you’re… entertaining.”

“That is not the word she was thinking,” Clint told Phil in a stage whisper.

“Natasha,” Phil murmured. “I have to be able to tell them something. Hill and Fury will take one look at me and know that I’ve been… intimate.”

“Been that long?” Clint asked. There was no scorn in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

“Yes,” Phil answered. “And while I am not the type to flaunt my conquests, it would be normal for me to state that I had spent my leave with a companion… one I intended to continue seeing, but whom would have no part in my life within SHIELD.”

“You’re going to pretend to have a civilian girlfriend?” Natasha’s eyebrows rose.

“I wasn’t planning on specifying a gender, actually,” Phil replied with a small smile. “I like to keep people guessing. If they can’t decide if I’m gay or straight, they won’t know whether to scrutinize my contact with you, Natasha, or with Clint.”

“That… might work,” Natasha admitted, nestling a little closer in Phil’s arms as she relaxed. “And of course, it would be no surprise that we – Clint and I – would know about this mystery someone, and collude with you – being we’re long standing professional partners.”

“And friends,” Clint added.

“More than,” Phil told him. He couldn’t lean over to kiss Clint with Natasha in his lap and had to settle for a squeeze of his hand. “Even before this—” he gestured with his head to indicate their cuddled positions, “—it was common knowledge at SHIELD that there was something… more.”

“Maria’s told me about the betting pool,” Natasha admitted. Phil laughed.

“Not just that, although I’d love to be a fly on the wall when those bets finally get cashed out.” There was a devilishly amused gleam in his eyes. “No, there’s actually been speculation that we’re related somehow – the one I hear most often is that Clint is my brother or cousin, and I allow him more liberties because of our kinship.”

Clint’s snort rocked his body enough to bump Natasha’s feet against his chest, and he put his hand around them automatically. “Liberties. Right.”

Phil pinned him with a glare, though there was still amusement in his eyes. “I do allow you more professional freedom than most agents. You’ve earned it. On a personal level…” he let his smile move from his eyes to his lips. “How many coffee cups are in my desk drawer?”

Nonplussed by the seemingly random query, Clint answered, “Three. Why?”

“And whose are they?”

“Yours, mine, and Nat’s,” Clint replied, and then his eyebrows lifted.

“Those cups have been ours for years,” Natasha said softly.

“As have I,” Phil confessed.

~ * ~


	17. Chapter 17

The sound of footsteps inside the front door caused Clint’s anxiety to skyrocket, his body abruptly tense against Phil and Natasha.

{Relax, dearling,} Natasha advised. {We’re not doing anything wrong.}

The door was pushed open, Cooper’s happy chatter preceding him as he led his father onto the porch. Barney’s eyes flickered to the triad on the swing.

Cooper, following his father’s gaze, grinned happily at his auntie and uncles. “Can I have a cuddle too?” he asked. It wasn’t so much that he wanted one – although Uncle Clint did give awfully good hugs – but that Uncle Clint was looking like he needed it.

“Sure, kiddo,” Clint agreed, and lifted his hands out of his lap so that the boy could climb on. Natasha rearranged her feet, tucking them between Cooper’s hip and Clint’s thigh.

Cooper giggled. “Your toes are cold, Auntie Nat.”

“I think it’s a girl thing,” Barney told his son in as casual a tone as he could manage. He leaned against the porch rail, facing the swing. “Your mom’s toes are always cold, too.”

“Auntie Ona’s are too,” Cooper agreed.

“That may have more to do with the fact that she refuses to wear shoes,” Clint chuckled.

Barney’s eyebrows lifted. “She goes barefoot? In the field?”

“I go barefoot everywhere, whenever possible,” Catriona told him, coming up the front steps from the lawn. She had been meditating out of sight, but the sound of her name had drawn her towards them. “Field and forest, village and metropolis. It is not in my nature to enjoy barriers between myself and the earth.” Barney’s disbelief was almost palpable, and Catriona laughed lightly. “You needn’t look so scandalized.”

“You let her out in the field, barefoot.” This time it wasn’t a question. His stare at Phil was challenging.

“Let me?” Catriona repeated, in a dangerously quiet tone.

“She isn’t a field agent,” Phil explained evenly. His hand on Clint’s tightened, but there was no other sign to indicate that he was less than calm. “I’m not her handler. She’s a non-com.”

“Non-combatant,” Natasha supplied, when Catriona’s frosty gaze was transferred to Phil. “Part of our support team,” she added to Barney.

“Ah.” Barney accepted this explanation with a nod, his eyes returning to the druid. “I suppose you’re classified, too,” he drawled.

“I am,” Catriona told him, her customary cheer returning.

Barney shook his head, looking directly at his brother for the first time since he’d arrived home. “How have you managed to fall in with incredibly classified, terribly beautiful women?”

Clint shrugged, half a smile on his face and some of his usual charm. “Luck. Dealer’s choice whether it counts as bad luck or good luck.” Natasha dug her toes into him and he winced. “Good luck! Always good luck!” Cooper giggled as Clint squirmed, trying to avoid Natasha’s toe jabs.

“And me, dhearthair?” Catriona asked, stepping close enough to ruffle Clint’s hair, leaning over to kiss the top of Cooper’s head as well.

“Definitely good,” Clint answered. “Whole-heartedly.”

“Glad to hear it,” the druid told him, squeezing his shoulder. When she looked up from him, Barney’s eyes were on her again.

“What did you call him?” he asked.

“Merely an endearment in my native tongue,” Catriona explained glibly. “It is of no consequence.”

The triad exchanged glances, but did not contradict her.

~ * ~

Phil wasn’t prepared for the regret he felt as the triad packed their belongings into Lola to return to SHIELD and their duties. He’d genuinely enjoyed his time on the Barton homestead. It was not often that he allowed himself to just be Phil – not Agent, not Coulson. It would be difficult to leave that behind.

“You’re always welcome here,” Laura told him as he settled the final bag into place.

He smiled at her. Lila, held in her mother’s arms, reached for him and he took the baby easily. “Thank you.” He ducked his head down to Lila’s lightly haired head and kissed her gently, savoring that unique baby smell, and the trusting grip she had on his index finger. He’d spent many hours with the children in the last days of their vacation, and knew he would miss them as well.

“Hand her over,” Clint ordered Phil, reaching for his niece. “My turn.” Clint cradled the baby, making ridiculous kissing faces at her. “Your auntie and uncles are going to miss you,” Clint told her. Natasha, coming up behind him, ran a finger down Lila’s arm, silently agreeing with her partner.

“You’ll come visit though, right?” Cooper asked anxiously. He darted forward to wrap Phil’s waist in a hug. The agent let his hand fall on the boy’s head, ruffling his hair.

“Whenever we can,” Phil agreed.

Natasha slid over so that she was between Clint and Phil, one hand on Lila and the other reaching for Cooper. She didn’t speak, but the boy smiled up at her anyway, knowing what her hand on his shoulder was saying.

“Take care of yourself out there,” Barney ordered his brother, looking uncomfortable. “And each other,” he added.

Catriona, dressed again in her white druidic robe, extended her hands towards Barney, palms up. Unsure, he mirrored the gesture. She indicated that he should turn his hands over and then clasped them gently, palm to palm, and bowed forward over them. “It has been a pleasure to sup at your hearth, to shelter in your home.” She straightened and released his hands. Reaching up, she touched the first two fingers of her right hand between his brows, using her left to echo the touch on her own forehead. She did the same to Laura and both children. “May you find health and harmony.”

Without waiting for a reaction, she turned and slipped into Lola’s backseat, face composed.

There was another round of hugs before the triad joined Catriona in the car. Cooper ran down the driveway next to Lola, waving, until the car was out of sight.

“Is she some kind of priest?” Barney asked his wife, still a little baffled by the petite redhead’s sudden formality.

Laura considered her husband a moment before answer. “Something like,” she agreed. She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t push.

~ * ~

Catriona remained silent for nearly an hour. Clint, who’d chosen to ride in the back seat with her, kept shooting her concerned looks. She did not meet his eyes, gazing out the side instead, her hands folded placidly in her lap.

Phil glanced at her occasionally in the rear-view mirror, feigning unconcern. He pulled in to a rest stop, gesturing to the convenience store. “Pit stop.” At a pointed look from their handler, Clint and Natasha walked into the store, arguing about snack food.

Catriona made no move to exit the car, so he leaned over the side and picked her bodily up out of her seat. “Treorai!” she protested.

He set her down gently next to the car, straightening her robe with brisk, efficient motions. “Tell me what is wrong, little one,” he implored in a low voice. 

She debated refusal, but sagged against him in submission instead. “You are going back to your lives – to new lives together – lives in which I have no part. I will return to my cottage, learn another language, study another discipline…”

“You most certainly have a place in our lives,” he assured her, tucking her body against his, her head under his chin. “You are welcome in my home – any home – in my office, wherever I am, whenever you wish. Even if you just need someone to eat ice cream with.”

“I do not wish to be a burden or intrusion,” Catriona murmured into his shoulder.

“You aren’t.” He smoothed her curls down. “Little one, I owe the lives of the people I love to you. I owe you for sending them to me, for accepting the three of us as we are – for everything. You’ll never be a burden, Catriona. You’ve made it possible for me to have my heart mates. I will do everything in my power to do the same for you.”

“You are a good man,” Catriona told him, her voice muffled against his chest and tight with emotion.

He released her slowly, tilting her face up to his. “You are a good friend.”

She smiled, a little shakily, but stepped back. “Perhaps we should go insist on the purchase of some food item other than processed cheese and pure sugar,” she suggested, tilting her head towards the store.

He returned the smile. “After you, my Lady.”

~ * ~


End file.
